I'll Be Here
by Galadriell
Summary: It is Harry's second year working as a pediatrician at the Children's Hospital in St. Mungo's.  A bloodied note arrives with the words, 'Harry Potter's assistance required'.  It is found clutched in the hand of a child.  Harry/Draco prompt. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Prompt by **InsaneOrange**. I had intended for this to be a one-shot, but got too lazy. So here's the first half. Or first third depending on where my mood takes me.

* * *

The pediatric ward was the busiest it had ever been. Mediwizards were stretched thin over the different departments as broken arms, concussion, colds, fevers, and ear infections were admitted.

"God, I hate summer," Harry muttered, throwing the charts down on the counter and rubbing his tired eyes.

"And it's just begun," Susan said cheerfully, handing him more files and pointing to the examination rooms.

"No…" he grumbled, looking pleadingly at the nurse.

"No doing. We're short staffed!"

"Please."

"No means no."

Harry let out a resigned sigh. "No chocolates for you," he retorted, his sharp green eyes shooting daggers at Susan before trudging to the rooms. He heard her laugh behind him as he opened the door.

"And how are we today?" he asked with a grin. From the looks of it, the mother was having a harder time than the daughter.

"Her cheeks are swollen and she has a fever. I've tried to reduce it, but it just won't go away," she explained rapidly, shooting worried glances from Harry to her child.

"Let's take a look," he said calmly, indicating at the chair for her to sit on. She nodded thankfully as she fidgeted with her hands and perched on the edge of the seat.

"Emily, is it?" he asked the small blonde before him.

"Yes," she said in a bashful voice. She was already seated on the examining bench. Her face did seem swollen, even underneath four-year-old cheeks. He cast quick charms to assess her temperature and pulse.

"Feeling warm?" he asked as he prodded the swelling lightly. She shrugged in response. "Is your head hurting?" She shrugged again. Harry let out a helpless smile. He turned to the mother. "It's just the mumps," he said.

"Mumps?" she exclaimed. "But she has the vaccine."

"Doesn't work all the time. Nothing to worry about, it goes away on its own," he said. He cast Pain Relief and Cooling charms on Emily. "There, she shouldn't be in any more pain. The fever with pass, just keep adding Cooling charms every hour or so. Feed her fluids, nothing too acidic. There might be discomfort." The mother was looking more and more relieved as Harry talked. "It should go away in a week," he concluded.

"Oh, good," she replied.

"Ice creams work."

Emily's eyes brightened up with her grin. "Ice cream?" she asked Harry with hopeful eyes.

Harry winked at her. "Up to your mum," he said.

"Ice cream?" Emily asked, now turning to her mother.

The woman laughed helplessly and said, "Now look what you've done."

"I know them too well," Harry replied as he marked down Emily's status on her chart. "Get well soon, Emily," he said before he left the room.

This was Harry's second year at the hospital. After Hogwarts, it had taken him another six years to get his medical license. The two years after medical school had been spent in residency. After eight grueling years of learning, he was finally able to work at St. Mungo's in the pediatric division. He was still one of the younglings, but being Harry Potter had perks. He was treated with respect since most people bypassed his young age of twenty-seven. He wasn't made to slave over trivial work. His skills as a Healer was recognized and appreciated. He enjoyed working in the hospital because of the satisfaction. It was a rewarding job, being a pediatric Mediwizard. Children weren't guarded or false. Harry liked the innocence and joy in them. It was a change from the outside world, where everyone treated him as a delicate idol. He liked to surround himself in imagination, laughs, and blunt comments. It was one of the reasons why he hadn't specialized. He wanted to stay a general physician so that he could experience a full work environment. Even though he complained to no end when it came to his occasional back-to-back shifts that lasted fourteen hours, the hospital staff knew how important this job was to Harry.

The pediatric ward was his second home, quite literally at times. The doctor's lounge had a very inviting sofa in it. But in a figurative sense, Harry felt at ease in the space. It was a bright five story building with multicolored paintings hung along the corridors and large windows shining in light in every room. Soft music could often be heard if it was quiet enough. Emergency rooms were located in the first storey, along with the reception and colorful daycare centre. The cafeteria had scrumptious meals that the staff and patients had no qualms about eating. The moving stairs wound around large pillars. Pre-natal care took up the second floor. This was the quiet area, where the young ones slept off their fatigue of being born. Harry liked to sit in the waiting rooms when he felt overwhelmed by the workload. It was soothing to be near so many new lives. It reminded Harry that life moved on past the horrendous day he was having. The third and fourth floors were mixed with short and long-term care patients. It was madness. Anyone who ventured into the floors was engulfed in insanity. No one could get out unscathed. Children ran rampant through the halls and parents often ran right on after them. There was never a moment's rest during the day in those two levels. Each room was colored in pastels. The walls were enchanted such that the child's favorite animal would be drawn on it anytime he or she walked in. So each room had a personality of its own. Most of the time, the children refused to leave their rooms, which was exactly what the doctors wanted. However, with the long-term care patients, it was harder to get them to stay put in the magical ward. The fifth storey was the hospice, another quiet area with lots of books and empty space for arts and crafts. The atmosphere was a stark difference from the fourth floor. The hospice was calmer and melancholy. This was one floor Harry rarely visited. It reminded him of death. He couldn't handle any more death in his life.

"Healer Potter to Emergency four, Healer Potter to Emergency four."

Harry frowned at Susan in confusion. She shrugged and shook her head to indicate that she didn't know why he was called down out of clinic. He hurriedly put down the remaining files on the table before jogging towards the emergency. Being in the loudest part of the hospital never failed to give him a headache. He pushed the double doors open and was instantly hit with the frantic atmosphere. Loud shrieks of irritable pain and rapid chatter of insistent parents were everywhere. Most of the seats were occupied by crying children and pale parents. Emergency Healers rushed from patient to patient, assessing and recording.

"Potter, over here," Penelope shouted out, grabbing Harry's attention. He spotted her wheeling in a casualty by the entrance. He rushed over to her, other nurses following right on after him. The boy on the gurney was bleeding profusely from a blow to the head and lashes on the torso.

"What happened?" Harry asked in horror.

"Ministry. They requested you."

"Ministry? What?" he exclaimed. Penelope raised her hands and shrugged to show her ignorance in this matter. "But he's a child!" Harry said as they whisked the boy towards Emergency room four. He had his wand out before they were in the room. He tried to close the wounds on the boy's chest, but none of his spells stuck. It was only then that he noticed the lack of clothes on the boy. He was wrapped in a cloak. Harry pulled the cloak down to eye the extent of damage. The blood was marring everything, and even as he wiped away the excess, more bubbled up in its place.

"Oh god," he murmured, his memories flashing back. He swallowed the bile that was rising up. "_Vulnera Sanentur_," he chanted softly. The blood staunched almost immediately. "_Vulnera Sanentur_," he repeated. The skin started to morph and repair itself. "_Vulnera Sanentur_," he said one last time. The bruising disappeared almost instantly. With a quick swish of his wand, Harry lessened the trauma on the brain of the child. He gripped the side of the bed and closed his eyes to stave off the nausea.

"What was that?" Penelope asked breathlessly.

Harry shook his head quickly. "I need a few slabs of dittany and two liters of type –" He flicked his wand at the boy " – O negative blood, stat. Wake Collins up and get him a Pepper-Up. He needs to be sharp for the procedure. Prep for surgery. Put him on IV and see if you can get him to take 20 mg of codeine. I want antibiotics pumped into him right away, nothing stronger than cefuroxime. I want full brain scans and status on his core. And for heaven's sakes, find out who he is!"

Penelope whipped Harry away from the bedside as the rest of the nurses started administering potion after serum. "What the hell, Harry? Snap out of it!" she muttered vehemently.

"I – I don't – he's… he's just a child, Penny," Harry whispered hoarsely, his expression pained.

"What was that spell?"

"It's something I – why would anyone do that?" he asked, glancing at the pale boy.

"Harry, get a grip!" she said, placing her hands on Harry's cheeks and forcing him to look at her. "What was that spell?" she asked deliberately.

"Dark Magic. Someone used Sectumsempra on him."

She let go of him, an expression of horror on her face. Harry stepped away quickly. "I – I have to – I'll be right back," he said, running out of the busy Emergency room. He slid down the hall and threw open the bathroom door. He knelt above the toilet bowl, willing himself not to throw up. His breath came in shallow spurts. It was all too real. His fatigue was catching up to him as he gagged. He tried not to think of the blood. But he kept seeing the tiled floors flowing with red. He kept hearing the horrified screams of pain. He let out a noise of anger as he punched the ground with his fist. The pain in his knuckles helped clear his brain in an instant. He opened his teary eyes and took in the cold air. "Pull yourself together," he muttered through gritted teeth as his sporadic thoughts left him. He took a moment to make sure he wasn't lightheaded before getting up. He doused his pallid face in cold water, hoping to wake himself up. He was back in the room within the next minute, shouting over the din as the staff worked at saving the boy's life.

* * *

"We know nothing on him?" Harry asked, his brows knit with puzzlement.

"No," Milo said, checking the charts once again.

"Did you check with the Ministry?"

"Yes. They haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"Then who wrote this?" This being the note that had been clenched in the boy's hand when the paramedics found him. It read, _Harry Potter's assistance required_. It was messy and covered in blood, most probably from the child's hand. The watermark was a wand transposed onto an M – Ministry of Magic. It was apparent to Harry why he was needed. Not many knew of the Sectumsempra and almost no one knew the counter-curse. Harry wouldn't be surprised if he was the only doctor in the building to know it.

"No clue," Milo said.

"No one's been reported missing?"

"I'll check, but at first glance, no."

"Bloody hell…"

"Harry," Penelope's shaking voice called out. He turned to find her standing outside the room four. "You have to see this," she said, her voice betraying terror.

Harry didn't need prompting twice as he ran to the room. The windows were pulled down and the room was bathed in soft darkness. The boy was in the middle of the large bed, looking fragile and much too pale. Penelope quickly shone a light above him. She pulled the boy's left arm up to the light. Harry looked perplexed as he tried to see what she was showing. "Um…" he murmured. "What?"

"This," she whispered, tracing her finger over the fair arm. As she traced the outline, Harry's heart nearly stopped.

"What?" he gasped, stepping away from the bed. Penelope did the same, dropping the boy's arm.

"I don't know," she answered. "How is it – he's – who is he?"

And just like that, it all clicked into place. Harry rushed back to the bed and pulled the boy's hospital gown open. Marks riddled the chest. Harry swept his eyes over the torso, trying to figure out what the pattern of cuts had been. Once he successfully found the lashes he had healed, he found that those weren't the first scars the boy had acquired. Older ones riddled his chest and stomach. "Oh god," Harry murmured, his eyes falling towards the boy's face. Pale, soft, feathered with platinum blonde hair. The almost-white scars. Faint green Dark Mark. "Malfoy…"

* * *

Harry pounded on Minister Shacklebolt's door furiously, ignoring the half-hearted tugs the secretary was using to pull him away. After a minute, the large doors opened to reveal an even larger man. Harry wasn't fazed. "We need to talk. Now," he said with an expression of anger that would've quelled Voldemort. Kingsley looked over Harry's shoulder and nodded at his secretary. She nodded in helplessness as she staggered back to her seat. Harry strode into the room and slammed the door shut. He threw mountainous amounts of spells at it with a flick of his wand, his fiery eyes never leaving the Minister.

"Draco Malfoy is alive?" he asked wrathfully.

Kingsley blinked. "What?" he asked in a calm tone that equaled Harry's force.

"Malfoy is in my hospital at this very moment. Why is he declared dead?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't you dare play glib with me," Harry roared. "There is a sick child in my ward and I want to know _everything_. _Now_!"

"Child?" Now Kingsley looked truly bewildered. "I don't understand."

"Is Draco Malfoy alive or dead?"

The Minister eyed Harry with a guarded expression. "Dead."

Harry exhaled forcefully as he closed his eyes. "I know when you lie. Why are you saying he's dead if he's alive?"

Kingsley sighed as he rubbed his aching temple. "I can't answer any –"

Harry slammed his hands on the table. "You _will_ listen to me. Draco Malfoy is in my hospital. He was hit with Sectumsempra. He almost bled to death. He has major head trauma. He may even be hemorrhaging inside his brain. If he turns septic, he'll be dead in two days. And in his hand was a note written in _Ministry parchment_ asking specifically for _me_. He is no more than six years old. What the hell are you doing lying to me?"

"Six… What?"

"Answer me, damn it!"

"He's an Unmentionable."

Harry pulled back considerably at this. "A what?"

"Unmentionable. Secret division."

"He – he works for you?"

Kingsley merely nodded.

"But why is he declared dead?"

"Protocol. No ties to the outside world."

Harry's head spun at the information. "What was he doing last night?"

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's classified."

"But he – I need to – he could die…" Harry said in a daze.

"I'll see what I can do," the Minister said. "But you said that he was – that he's six? What do you mean?"

Harry shook his head in confusion. "I mean just that. He's maybe five or six years old. That's why he's at the Children's."

"This doesn't make any sense."

"Which is why I need to know what he was doing. Maybe a spell or a potion. I need to know if it's fatal. I need to reverse it."

"I will owl you as soon as I get word, Harry. I promise."

Harry felt the sudden burst of emotion draining him. He hadn't slept in twenty hours and counting. "Right, good. I – I'm sorry…" he said, blushing. "I got a little carried away."

"It's fine. Understandable. Wouldn't want anyone else to look after Draco."

Harry nodded with his eyes downturned. This was all too much for this sleep-addled brain to handle. "Make sure to owl the response," he reiterated as he lifted the charms off the door and opened it. "He's stable, in case you were wondering."

"Thank you."

* * *

After surgery, Draco was moved to the Intensive Care Unit. His room was small and plain, stark white for sterility. His head was heavily bandaged. Healer Collins was able to drain out almost all the blood from between Draco's meninges and skull. The bruise on the frontal lobe was expected to heal with minimal brain damage. The antibiotics and pain medication was administered at regular intervals. He could breathe on his own now, which was a relief unto itself.

Penelope had been told not to reveal Draco's identity to anyone. She complied after seeing Harry's slightly desperate expression. Throughout his shifts for the next two days, he found himself peeking into Draco's room to see if the boy was doing any better. Each time, there was little to no change in his vitals.

It was on the third day that Draco finally awoke.

Harry inexplicably found himself sitting in the corner of Draco's room, reading a book by the window. Soft daylight floated in, bathing the room in a healthy glow. He kept telling himself that the only reason he was in the room was because he was Draco's doctor. There was nothing else to it. He had been in the plush chair for over two hours when the boy reached up with both arms and grasped thin air. He sat up with a gasp, his grey eyes unblinking as they stared straight ahead. Harry scrambled out of his seat. Draco was having a night terror. Horror quickly clouded the small eyes and he started screaming. With a lurch Harry was in bed, holding the terrified boy. He wouldn't stop shouting. Harry felt the frail body trembling and the screams splitting through the walls. It was a full-blown nightmare. Draco convulsed slightly as the terror drew all the air out of him. No more than fifteen seconds later, he fell limp and the loud yells dropped away. Harry's heart thundered as he laid the sleeping boy back down on the bed. Draco was sweating and heaving for breath as his body tried to calm down. Harry cast a Cooling and Drying charm on his patient. Perhaps it was the cold that triggered it, but Draco mumbled in his sleep just as Harry finished casting the spells. He rolled over onto his side, his back to Harry, and curled up into himself. Harry watched the boy fall back into his dreams just as easily as he had awakened from them. This was Draco Malfoy.

A month after Voldemort's death, Harry had received the news about Draco. The papers had reported it as suicide – a clean break from everything; his past, present and future. The heavily publicized suicide note read that he blamed no one and now he owed no one. Harry's beleaguered mind had prompted him to shatter his coffee mug against the wall at the news. He had cursed Draco for being a coward and taking the easy way out. He had envied Draco's detachment. He had even found himself wishing that he could do the same.

But here he was. Draco Malfoy. Alive. It wasn't detachment at all.

"You son of a bitch," Harry muttered with a small smile as he watched Draco's back rise and fall with each soft breath. "Scared me half to death…"

* * *

Harry was idly pacing the length of the room when Draco woke up for the second time.

"Water."

Harry stumbled to a halt and whipped his head at the bed. Draco's lips were moving.

"Malfoy?" he asked, feeling rather foolish.

"Water…"

Harry quickly conjured a glass of water and a straw. He helped Draco sit up and guided the straw into his mouth. The boy sipped thirstily, not stopping until he had finished almost all of the water. With a groan, he released the straw and fell back onto the pillows.

"How are you feeling?"

Draco struggled to get his eyes open. It took two hands rubbing his eyes to get the lids to flutter up. "Huh?" he asked.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked again.

"Where's Mum?"

"Mum…"

"I want Mum."

Harry sighed despondently. He had known that this was a possibility. But it still shocked him to no end. Draco was both physically and mentally five years old. "She's not here right now."

"When will she come back?"

Narcissa had been dead for two years. "Soon."

"My head hurts."

Harry cast quick charms to help relieve the pain. "Now?"

"It's fine now… I'm going back to sleep."

Harry stopped the boy from rolling over. "No, no. You've slept enough."

"No, I haven't," he said, trying to slip away from Harry's grasp.

"Yes, you have."

"I haven't. I'm sleepy," Draco insisted.

"Aren't you hungry?" Harry asked quickly before he had a tantrum on his hands.

Draco opened his mouth to retort when his stomach grumbled on cue. He snapped his mouth shut with a click. "No," he said sullenly.

Harry rolled his eyes as he flicked his wand. A tray of potatoes and greens appeared on Draco's lap. "Eat up."

"I don't want it," he muttered with a slight pout.

"You haven't eaten anything for four days!"

"I feel sick."

Harry wasn't sure if Draco was telling the truth or just being stubborn. "Sick how?"

"Sick."

Draco was lying. "Fine, if you don't want to eat, I guess you won't get any dessert."

The boy tried to look like he didn't care. "What dessert?" he asked, glaring at his hands vehemently.

"Treacle tart."

The pout grew larger at this. "Tart?" he mumbled to himself, although Harry caught it. "I want tart."

"Not until you finish this," Harry said, waving his hand at the food. Draco sighed languidly, evidently making a scene for Harry to enjoy. He grabbed the fork with vengeance and started stabbing the poor asparagus with it. Harry watched with growing amusement at the display of rebellion. "You need to eat it, not just murder it," he said.

Draco finally looked at Harry with narrowed eyes. "_You_ eat it, then," he said, shoving the fork into Harry's face.

"Then I guess I'll just have to eat your dessert too."

"I don't like you."

"I don't like you either."

Draco's lips twitched upwards at Harry's statement. He stuck his tongue out at his doctor. A surprised laugh left Harry. Draco Malfoy just stuck his tongue out at Harry Potter. What has the world come to?

"What's your name?" Draco asked, taking a small bite from his mangled vegetables.

"Harry."

"I'm Draco."

"I know."

"Where am I?"

"Hospital."

"Oh no," Draco said dismally. "What happened?" he asked, evidently feeling empathy for himself.

"Just an accident," Harry said vaguely.

"Am I alright?"

"Sort of," he replied, half-truthfully.

"When can I go home?"

"We'll see, okay?"

"Hmm…"

They sat in amicable silence as Draco's appetite returned in full force. He was gobbling up the warm dish without restraint. For Harry it was bizarre to see Draco eat without the usual Malfoy poise.

"What do you remember last?" Harry asked, hoping to find some clue as to Draco's condition.

The boy seemed to be thinking this question over for a few minutes as he munched on his carrots. "Um… It was night. And – that's all."

"Do you remember getting hurt?"

Draco frowned as he looked away into the distance. "No. No, I don't think so. Was I hurt bad?"

Harry indicated to Draco's head. It seemed he had only just noticed. He dropped the fork with a clatter as his hands flew up to his head. The bandage still wound around his head and he ran his fingers along the expanse of it. "Whoa!" he breathed. "I almost died?" he asked gleefully.

"That you did," Harry said, more to himself than to the excited boy.

"Awesome! Mum's probably so angry!"

Harry didn't answer. He contented in watching Draco attack his food again, shoveling it into his mouth with fervor. The moment the last of the vegetable disappeared from the plate into Draco's mouth, a slice of treacle tart appeared on the plate. Draco was quite enthusiastic about it as well. Just as he brought his fork up to take the last bite, he looked at Harry. Slight color flooded his cheeks. "Um… Do you want some?" he asked lamely.

Harry couldn't help laughing at this. He shook his head between chuckles. "No. It's all yours," he said.

Draco nodded as he took the last blissful bite of tart and put down his fork in satisfaction. "Now what?" he asked, sipping on his juice.

Harry shrugged. "You aren't allowed out of bed for the next week," he informed.

Draco's face fell drastically. "Why?"

"Don't want to jolt your brain, do you?"

"No, I don't want to."

"So you have to stay put."

"What should I do?"

"Do you want to… read?"

"No."

"Paint?"

"No."

"Sleep?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"Play with me!"

Harry smiled. "Really?"

"Yes," Draco said decisively. "Let's play… um… Story Lines."

Harry eyed the boy warily, unsure. "How do you play it?" he asked, sitting on the opposite end of the bed.

"I make a line, then you make a line. Story Lines. It's easy. I'll start." He sat up importantly, his back leaning against the pillows and his fingers entwining into each other as he thought. "Once upon a time, there was a dragon. Now your turn."

"He… lived in an enchanted forest?" Harry said tentatively.

Draco nodded in approval. "He was sad because he had no friends."

"Hmm… So he sat in his cave all day long."

"Then a dragon hunter came."

"The dragon hunter walked all around the forest looking for the dragon."

"The dragon was scared, so he flew into the sky."

Harry frowned slightly. "Then what happened?"

"Then the hunter looked up and saw the dragon."

Harry saw the far away look on Draco's face. "And…"

"The hunter shot lots of arrows at the dragon. So he fell down."

"Oh…"

"I don't like this story," the boy murmured.

"No, I don't like it much either," Harry responded. "Maybe it's not done yet."

"Huh?"

"The dragon roared so loud that all the animals in the jungle heard him."

Draco blinked at Harry dubiously, but didn't deign to say anything.

"The elephants, lions, snakes, and birds helped the dragon by scaring the hunter away."

The boy nodded slowly.

"They helped the dragon get better."

"And then the dragon was happy because he made friends?" Draco asked.

"Of course."

"Oh… I like _this_ story," the blond said with a slow smile.

"Is that what happened to you?" Harry asked cautiously. Draco looked befuddled. "Did someone hurt you?"

"Now I'm all better, see?" he said with a grin.

"But who hurt you?"

Draco shook his head and said, "No one."

Harry sighed. He had triggered something in Draco's mind, but it was gone in an instant. "Okay."

* * *

"What do you think?" Harry asked as he indulged in some hot chocolate in the lounge. Penelope was scanning the lab reports with a slight frown on her face. "Anything out of the ordinary? Or am I just blind?"

She shook her head slightly. "No, nothing wrong at all. Low hemoglobin and slight renal failure were expected. Um… Biopsy is clean. Hopefully no infection. Don't see too many antibodies. Normal."

"Even his telomeres are longer. I mean, what does this? It's complete de-aging with almost no side effects!" Harry said.

"What do you mean, almost?"

"This morning, it seemed like he remembered something. But… That's impossible if the scans are right. He shouldn't have any memory of anything."

"What did he do?"

Harry sighed, taking a long pull of his drink. "You know what? Never mind. I am quite obviously going paranoid. It's nothing. He's a child with an imagination. Now we just have to figure out how to get him to grow up…"

"No word from the Minister?"

"Nope."

"Theories?"

"I was thinking about how it could be a potion that reacted with him. Or a spell that wasn't placed right. Still need to do some research on it. Ugh, I hate research," Harry grumbled.

"I just thought of something," Penelope said in alarm. "Do you think he is capable of aging?"

Harry's body stiffened at the question. "What?" he asked, more for the sake of saying something.

"What if he can't age?"

"Shit," Harry swore as he scrambled off of the couch.

* * *

**A/N:** So... Yeah. What did you think? The prompt was to write a story where Harry has to take care of a de-aged Malfoy who was around the age of 5. I had intended for it to be a CrackFic. Then I started writing. Oh, how things change when my fingers hit the keys. Also, erm... Don't bash the jargon. I have no idea how a hospital is run. I get it all from House M.D. I may have fibbed a bit. No big deal, right? Right.

In case you're wondering, the hospital I described is pretty much identical to the one near where I live. Minus the magic. Holy hell, if it were magical I'd make myself catch pneumonia every month. :D Still, it's an amazing place and I couldn't help but put Harry in it. He seems to be enjoying it, don't you think? I don't know why I didn't see Harry as a pediatrician before, but he looks damn hot in a white coat. *sigh*


	2. Chapter 2

The lab service at St. Mungo's was located in the basement of the main hospital. Harry was hurtling through the door in a matter of seconds. The technicians looked up in fright at the sudden intrusion. Harry skidded to a halt, blushing. "Erm – sorry. I was looking for Nev."

"Back."

"Thanks." He wove through the mess of equipment and staff to get to the office. He knocked twice before opening the door and popping his head in. Neville was busily scribbling notes as he looked through the ocular lens at the slides. He looked up at Harry blankly before realizing who it was.

"Oh, hey! What are you doing here?" he asked, waving Harry in.

"Promise me you won't get mad," Harry said, closing the door behind him and silencing the room. The room was a small lab with two tables filled with glassware and tissue samples. Lights floated strategically over the lens, letting the rest of the room fall in darkness. With a flick of his hand, Neville turned the lights back on. Papers lay in heaps on the chairs and cabinets. He waved Harry towards one of the empty lab stools, choosing to stand against the wall.

"Okay, when you start off like that…"

Harry swallowed, unsure of whether telling Neville this was a mistake or not. "Draco Malfoy is alive."

Neville's stance shifted perceptibly. "What did you say?" he asked, obviously certain that he had heard Harry wrong.

"Draco Malfoy is alive."

Neville's lips drew into a thin line as his eyes narrowed. "No, he's not."

"He's in the hospital right now."

"Are you delusional?"

"I need your help with him. I know you're planning on saying no, but hear me out."

Neville let out a helpless laugh. "Harry, he's been dead for years!"

Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. "Look, I came to you because I need you to keep it between us. Strictly between us. Not even Luna will hear about this."

"Okay, you're freaking me out," Neville murmured, conjuring a cup of water and handing it to his friend. "Drink up, clear your mind, and _then_ tell me what you really want to tell me."

Harry downed the water in an instant, realizing that he was parched. "Okay," he said, letting out a slow breath. "Draco Malfoy is my patient. He works for the Ministry as an Unmentionable. He came in four days ago. He had multiple lacerations to his chest and stomach. He sustained injury to his brain and had epidural hemorrhages in two areas. He has also de-aged twenty years. Completely. DNA and memory included. I need you to find out if he is capable of aging. I need you to see if his tissues will grow and die."

Neville blinked at Harry. "Where is he?"

* * *

Harry knocked on the door before opening it. Draco looked up expectantly but his face fell when he saw Harry walk in. "Where's Mum?" he asked glumly as he put down the pencil.

Harry felt concern grow in him. "Um… she's – she'll be – I –"

Draco's gaze moved from Harry to Neville, who was standing behind him. Neville was gawking without inhibition, evidently unable to believe his eyes. "He's – but he's – how is this – oh my gosh…"

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Is he okay?" he asked Harry.

"Y – yeah. Sure." Harry turned to look at Neville. "Let's step outside for a second," he said, glaring at his friend to make him shut up.

Neville nodded and stepped out of the room. As soon as Harry closed the door, he had question after question.

"The suicide?"

"Apparently it's protocol for Unmentionables. They are made to severe all ties with everything."

"Unmentionables?"

"I don't know what that is and Kingsley won't tell me. It's some sort of secret service."

"How do you –"

"He has the Dark Mark…"

"But he's –"

"I know. Is there anything that you can think of that could do this?"

"No memory?"

"None. He thinks he's a child. He doesn't even know about his mother."

"How was he hurt?"

"He came in with Sectumsempra wounds. The technicians say that the head injury was most probably from a struggle. Maybe he was hit with something."

"Status?"

"Stable. Or as stable as expected."

"His core?"

"Again, stable. Kind of erratic, but he doesn't have the same control over his magic as he usually does. Which makes sense because he's a child."

"Any other symptoms?"

"No. Headaches from the injury, but that's it. Appetite's returned. Nothing really except for the fact that he's de-aged."

"Wow…" Neville breathed, bracing himself against the wall. "He – he's alive… He works for the Ministry? What the hell happened to him?"

"I don't know," Harry said helplessly. "No one is going to tell me anything."

Neville rolled his eyes. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived. Use it."

* * *

"What?" Hermione snapped as she threw the door open. Her frown turned to a grin when she saw Harry. "Hey, you! What are you doing here?" she asked, hugging him.

"I had a few questions I thought you could answer," Harry responded, hugging her back fondly. "How have you been?"

"Great!" she said, letting Harry into her office. "Oh, wait. I'm supposed to be mad at you."

"Oh?" Harry laughed. "Why?"

"Haven't heard from you in weeks! That's why!"

"Sorry," he apologized, ducking his head. "Been busy."

"Ron's not pleased."

"I know, I know," he said, nodding his head. "I'll firecall tonight, okay?"

"Good," she said, walking around the desk to her chair and motioning for Harry to take the seat opposite hers. "So, what did you need to talk about?"

Harry brushed his shirt smooth, trying to figure out the best way to word his enquiries. "What do you know about Unmentionables?"

Hermione's eyes betrayed her as her expression stayed placid. Harry noticed the spark of recognition in her eyes. Hermione knew Harry saw it. "Why do you want to know?" she asked.

Harry gestured vaguely. "Heard about it somewhere."

"No, you didn't," she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, are you going to tell me what you know?" he asked.

She shook her head thoughtfully, pushing her parchment and quill out of the way. "Classified," she said.

"Because…"

"Because it's classified."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking you to tell me their names. I just want to know what they do."

"I can't tell you."

"Will you answer yes or no?"

"No."

"Do you know any of them?"

Hermione pursed her lips in consternation. Harry took that as a no.

"I know that they don't have identities. Kingsley told me as much. But why would –"

"Wait, you talked to the Minister?" Hermione asked in puzzlement.

"Well, yeah," Harry shrugged. "How else would I know about them?"

"Oh…"

"What kind of work do they do?"

"Harry, no matter how you ask me, I'm not allowed to say anything," she said with a sorry lilt to her words.

"Who is?"

"What?"

"Who can I talk to?"

"Um…"

"What, you can't even tell me that?" he asked incredulously.

She made an exasperated sound. "It's for their own protection. If anyone finds out who they are, there's no point in staying hidden."

"Fine. Then tell me how one goes about being an Unmentionable."

"They are recruited."

Harry's eyes dilated for a second, causing him to lose focus. "Recruited?" he asked faintly.

"No one can join. They are recruited."

"But that's – how is that – oh…"

Hermione saw Harry staring at her inkwell as though it was the most interesting thing he had seen in ages. "What?" she asked, trying to draw his attention.

"Who recruits them?" he asked, his brows slowly furrowing in concentration.

"Classified," Hermione said again.

"Damn it," Harry muttered, kicking the desk with fervor before he stood up. "Fuck," he swore, running antsy fingers through his hair. "I have to go," he said, not bothering to look at Hermione.

Hermione hadn't seen Harry look this agitate in years. "Harry, what's wrong?" she asked quickly, stopping him before he could reach the door.

"I need to figure this out."

"But what's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Classified."

He left the office with purpose in his stride. He was in the records library five minutes later, scanning his eyes down the list to see if there was any sign of the Unmentionables in the system. He hadn't expected to find anything and he didn't. He threw the record book down in frustration and looked at the reception desk. After a moment of thought, he walked up to the front. The woman behind the desk was searching through her catalogue when Harry approached her. She glanced at him once with a smile before turning back to her cards. The she froze and whipped her head up again. "Oh. Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed, flustered.

Harry turned on his charm. "Hey," he said with a grin.

"Wh – what can I do for you, sir?" she stuttered out, blushing.

"It's probably nothing, but I needed to look up a file of one of your employees. You see, he's my patient and I needed to do some routine stuff. How could I find his file?" he asked, leaning his elbows against the tall desk and aiming a crooked smile at the woman.

"W – well, th – there's the employee database. That's – I think it'll – um…"

"Where would I find this database, exactly?"

"I – I could sh – show you."

Harry winked at her. "I'd appreciate it. Thank you."

She sidled out from behind the reception area, smoothing her dress and her hair as she glanced at Harry again. "This way," she said, indicating for him to follow her. She wove around the shelves and past the tables filled with Ministry workers. Harry tried to keep a low profile, bowing his head down and trying not to make too much eye contact. Along the side of the library was a large set of doors. She waved it open and the lights turned on to reveal a massive room filled with rows of filing cabinets. "It's all alphabetized. A here through Z there," she said, pointing from left to right.

"Last name?"

"Yes."

"Are _all_ employees in this database?"

She turned with an inquiring expression. "I would think so, yes."

Harry wondered how far he could push it. "Who has the authority to look through these?" he asked casually.

She became flustered again. "Um… Higher level officials."

Harry smiled vaguely. "And I am here because…"

"You have the clearance."

He frowned in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"You have the clearance," she repeated.

"Oh, I do?"

"Y – yes… Didn't you know?"

Harry gazed down the aisles thoughtfully. "No, I didn't."

She nodded hesitantly. "Well, now you know."

"Yes. Thank you so much. What's your name?"

She smiled with increasing bashfulness. "Um… Bayley."

"Right. Thanks for letting me know, Bayley."

"You're welcome," she replied, stumbling away from Harry as quickly as she could. Harry watched her leave with a smile on his lips. The moment the doors closed, he was running down the cabinets, counting each one until he reached the thirteenth one. He skidded to a stop and wrenched it open.

"Please be here, please be here," he muttered as he flicked through the folders in haste. "Yes!" he proclaimed as he landed on the file. "Malfoy," he murmured, pulling it out. He flipped it open and groaned. "Fuck." It was Lucius Malfoy's file. He turned back to the cabinet to see if there was another file under the Malfoy name. There wasn't. He slammed the drawer shut with a growl. Lucius' file was still in his hand. He scanned it irritably. Of course he had been foolish to think Draco's file would be in there. It had been wishful thinking. He flipped the pages. There were many accounts of testimonies and court orders. A few initiation forms and protocol sheets were scattered through. The last page was his Azkaban sentencing, transcribed by the court reporter and stamped by the Minister. "Damn it," he swore as his patience ran low. That's when the last passage of the sentencing caught his eye.

_The afore mentioned charges and testimonies convicts Lucius Abraxas Malfoy to a life sentence in high security prison, Azkaban, with no chance of parole. He leaves behind wife, Narcissa Malfoy née Black, and son, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Compensatory damages to be paid in the amount of:_

Here it was altered to _PAID_.

Harry frowned, his fingers running over the words. "Paid?"

Beside the printed passage was a handwritten sentence, penned in red.

_Project Extraction. Final member found._

"Oh god…" Harry breathed, dropping the file as though he were burned. Draco blamed no one and now he owed no one.

* * *

Harry stood at the doorway, his shadow falling on the floor of the dark room. Draco was asleep on his stomach, an arm laced under his pillow and the other flopped off the bed. On impulse Harry walked in slowly, making sure not to wake the boy up. He sat down on the bed. As he watched Draco's peaceful face, he realized that he didn't know the boy. He didn't know who Draco Malfoy was anymore. He had never known.

"Mummy?"

Draco's eyes fluttered open as he searched for Narcissa. He landed on Harry instead.

"Where's Mum?" he asked.

"She's not here," Harry said quietly.

"Why?"

Harry shook his head because he had no answer.

"I want Mum," Draco whispered heavily, his fact contorting as he tried to sit up.

"I'm sorry…"

"Please..." he murmured, his lips trembling.

"Don't cry," Harry said desperately, shocked at Draco's tear-filled eyes.

"I want Mummy," the boy said brokenly as the tears finally fell. "I want to go home," he sobbed.

Harry groaned softly. "Draco, she's – she's not here anymore. Do you know what that means?"

"I just want to see her. Please."

"You can't."

Draco drew his knees up as his fingers clenched the sheets. "Why?"

"She's not here anymore."

"She is. She's my mum. Where is she? I want Mum. Please, I want – she's – Mum…"

Harry pulled the boy into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, Draco," he murmured in sorrow. "Please, don't cry."

Draco sobbed into Harry's shirt, unable to stop his sorrow. "I miss Mum," he gasped out, now clutching at Harry with tight fingers. "Why can't I see her?"

"We'll figure it out together, okay?" Harry said reassuringly, gently rocking Draco.

"We'll see her tomorrow?" he asked.

"I'll try…"

Fresh bursts of tears flooded Draco as he let Harry hold him. "I'm scared," he whimpered.

"Of what?"

"I don't know. What if she won't come back?"

"You have to be brave… You're so brave," Harry murmured.

"If she won't come back – I miss her…"

"I'll be here. I'll always be here."

* * *

"I'm done waiting," Harry said directly. "Tell me everything you know about Draco."

Kingsley tapped his fingers on the desk thoughtfully. "Is it that important?"

"I don't know if it's important. I just need to know how he came to work for you. I want to know who recruited him. I want to know why and when. I want to know what he was doing that night. And I want to know what you're planning on doing with him."

"Some things I am not allowed –"

"What is Project Extraction?"

Kingsley looked at Harry in shock. "How do you – where did you hear about it?"

"That's not the point. What is it? Is he in danger because he's a member?"

"Harry, this information you have… You aren't supposed to have it."

"But I do have it. I want you to help me make sense of it," Harry insisted, tired of the Minister's roundabout words. "Is this how he is paying off his debt?"

The large man breathed in deeply as he rubbed his hands over his face. "Do you have any idea how infuriating you are right now?"

Harry made an indignant sound. "_I'm_ infuriating? I'm trying to save my patient and _I'm _being infuriating? What about you? You haven't told me anything!"

"Because you're a civilian!"

"I'm Harry bloody Potter!"

The Minister clamped his mouth shut at Harry's outburst. "What?" he asked, clearly stunned.

"I'm Harry Potter and I – I order you to – to tell me _everything_ about Draco Malfoy."

"You can't order me," he said incredulously.

"Just tell me, Kingsley," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know he was approached after his father's conviction. I know the compensatory damages have been paid off. I know he's the last member of the team for Project Extraction. And I know he almost died doing his job. Just help me fill in the gaps. You owe me."

Kingsley felt a faint smile grow on him. "Really?"

"Yes, damn it! You owe me and I'm asking you to return the favor. Why the fuck is this so hard to do?"

The Minister leaned back on his seat and eyed Harry's frustrated expression with curiosity. "You are _that_ committed?"

"What did you expect? I obsess over everything," he said bitingly.

"Which is why you would've been a perfect candidate…"

Harry frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Project Extraction. A perfect candidate."

Harry realized that Kingsley was going to let him in on the classified information. He knew he needed to tread carefully. "Because of my obsessive nature?" he asked deliberately.

"Because of your nature to stop at nothing."

"Draco was of such a nature?"

"Hmm… I suppose. He was strong magically and academically. He was also strong willed. Powerful and essential for the project."

"What _is_ the project?"

"Exactly what it says. Extraction."

"Of?"

"Voldemort's global followers."

Harry shook his head to indicate that he didn't understand.

"When Voldemort was defeated, the Death Eaters, werewolves, giants, and Dementors dispersed. We have been trying to track them down before… Before they can do any damage."

Harry let the information sink in. "Okay," he said slowly. "Why use these Unmentionables?"

"Like I said, they're skilled extractors. Their identities are unknown. They are shadows."

"How dangerous…"

"How dangerous do you think it is?"

Harry thought back to Draco's bloodied body. He shuddered involuntarily. "He was on the job when – he was attacked?"

"I have looked into it. Reports put him around Cardiff. Then we lost contact. From the paramedics' report I got, they found him near Newport. We lost him for about two hours."

"Two… Do you know what he was doing in Cardiff?"

"Investigating sightings, I believe."

"On his own?"

"He disobeyed procedure. It's not unusual for him to do that. He prefers to work alone."

Harry stared through Kingsley for a few minutes, trying to piece everything together in his mind. "So whatever happened to him happened during those two hours. Do you know what you're dealing with? As in, do you think they'll come looking for him?"

"I don't know why anyone would. I mean, he's – well, he's nobody…"

"Right," Harry murmured. "Nobody."

They sat in silence for a while before Harry was able to move back to reality. "Did his mother know?" he asked.

"Pardon?"

"Did his mother think he was dead?"

Kingsley looked perplexed at Harry's question. "Everyone thinks he's dead. So yes, his mother thought so too."

Harry sighed quietly, looking away. "Okay. If you get any more information about what happened to him there, let me know. I'll do everything I can to – um, reverse the de-aging," he said, standing up blearily.

"I will let you know."

Harry nodded once as he walked out. As he was about to open the door, he turned slightly to look at the Minister. "Why wasn't I approached?"

Kingsley smiled. "Figured you had too much to live for…"

Harry's gaze dropped at the reason. "Hmm… And he didn't?"

"No, he didn't."

* * *

Draco was moved to the third floor of the hospital. He was prescribed bed rest for two more days. As soon as Harry came back from the Ministry, he popped in for a visit. The room was much larger and more colorful than the ICU. As Harry opened the room, he knew that Draco had made himself at home. There was soft one-sided chatter coming from inside. Harry peered in and found Draco standing against the wall. A large white dragon was flying along the room. Draco followed it with his hands and bright eyes.

"We're going to have so much fun together," he said, his eyes flicking towards the door when he saw slight movement. "Oh, hi!" he greeted Harry with a grin. "Look at this!" he said excitedly, pointing to the flat dragon that was now flying on the ceiling. "Isn't he awesome?" he asked.

Harry smiled as he nodded. "Very awesome," he responded. "Like the room?"

"I love it!"

Large windows panned one entire wall. White curtains hung on either side, letting in enormous amounts of sun. The walls were colored pale green and the painted dragon was breathing colorful red flames all around as he flew. The bed was white with large pillows and fluffed mattresses. The closet and washroom had white doors. A large green couch looked out through the window. The scene was that of downtown London. Draco could see the pedestrians and grey buildings from where he stood.

"It's so big," Draco said expressively, throwing his hands up in the air.

"All yours."

"All mine!" he exclaimed in glee. "Let's play something, Harry!"

Harry shook his head apologetically. "Can't. I have to get to work."

"Work? What work?" Draco asked, borderline whining.

"Doctor work."

"Doctor?"

Harry laughed. "Yes, who did you think I was?"

"Harry," Draco shrugged, his hands pressed against the dragon to keep it from escaping.

Harry noticed that Draco no longer asked for Narcissa. He was concerned about this new development but afraid to bring it up. He knew that Draco wasn't capable of understanding death. Harry didn't know how to explain it. He decided to leave it alone for the time being. "You think you can hang out here on your own for a bit?"

"Okay."

"Okay," Harry echoed, eyeing Draco's glum face for a moment longer before leaving the boy in the room. "Okay," he sighed as he closed the door softly.

He couldn't keep his mind on work for the first half of his day. Each patient he got reminded him of Draco. Of how alone Draco was. Of how lost he must be feeling. Harry couldn't even remember where three of his hours had gone. By the time lunch rolled around, he was a worried mess. Neville caught him before he could head upstairs.

"Harry," he called out. Harry hoped it was good news. "Got the results."

"And?"

"He _can_ age."

"Oh, thank goodness," Harry sighed, his hand over his thundering heart. "Okay, this is good." Now his mind was moving rapidly. "This means it's not an ongoing symptom. Instantaneous de-aging sounds better than continuous de-aging, right?"

"Neither of those sound good," Neville responded sardonically.

"At least we have one less thing to worry about."

"Right."

"Thanks, Nev," Harry said sincerely.

"Yeah, no worries. If he turns out to be the same douchebag, I'm blaming you."

Harry couldn't help chuckling at this as Neville left him. With his heart considerably lighter, he made his way to the third floor. He sidestepped the wild children in the playrooms and halls, reaching Draco's room.

"Hey, I'm back," he said as he opened the door.

"Harry!" Draco shouted, practically bowling him over with an enthusiastic hug.

"Missed me _that_ much?" he asked.

"Yes," Draco answered truthfully.

"Had lunch yet?"

He nodded as he pulled Harry to the couch and made him sit down. His brows shot up when Draco crawled up the sofa and clambered onto his lap. He felt a soft sigh coming from the boy as he settled down comfortably. "I thought you wanted to play," Harry said softly.

"No," Draco replied, leaning his head against Harry as he watched London bustling through his window.

"Oh…"

Draco started humming quietly, his voice breaking at parts and going off tune at others. Harry didn't mind it at all. He wondered if Draco knew the words. "Is that dragon magical?" Draco suddenly asked, pointing at the white painting that was floating idly on the roof.

"Yes, of course."

"Good."

He resumed his humming. He tilted his head back to look at Harry's upside down face. He smiled happily as the humming died in his throat. "You have green eyes," he reported.

Harry winked. "That I do."

"What's on your head?"

"On my head?" Harry asked, touching his head in confusion.

"Right there," Draco corrected, poking Harry's forehead.

"Oh, that. Just a scar."

"Maybe I'll get one too," the boy said in contemplation as he touched his bandage. "Then we'll look the same."

Harry stifled his laugh in Draco's hair. "Sure," he said shakily.

"I'm tired," Draco announced, dropping his chin back down and turning to face Harry.

"Oh? Why?" Harry asked, studying the boy's serious face.

"I didn't sleep."

Now he frowned. "You didn't sleep… last night?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I didn't sleep."

Harry was concerned. The child needed at least ten hours and by the sounds of it he had gotten less than three. He wondered how Draco was still coherent. "Were you scared?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I don't know."

"Count to ten for me," Harry said.

"Huh?"

"Start with one, go to ten. Count."

"Why?"

"No answer to why. I'll count with you."

They counted to five before Draco faltered over his words. He looked at Harry with a sour expression. "I don't want to count."

Harry realized that Draco was indeed not as lucid as he was supposed to be. "Do you want to sleep?" he asked.

Draco shrugged and wrapped his arm around Harry's neck. "No," he sighed, his eyes closing.

"Hmm…"

The boy was asleep in a matter of minutes. Harry's arms were wrapped around him to keep him from falling. _This_ was Draco Malfoy…


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Oh my goodness, you guys! Your amazing reviews are totally making me giddy! GAH! Thanks so much! I feel so loved :D Sorry for the short chapter. This one just gets the ball rolling. Next ones will return to original length of 5000+ words.

And to **anon**… Holy hell, why do you have to be such a bum? _I want to message you_! Your comment pretty much _makes_ this chapter! GET AN ACCOUNT!

* * *

"See you tomorrow, Penny," Harry called out to the other side of the lounge as he shrugged off his Healer robes and put on a coat. She waved with a smile. Harry raked his fingers over his hair as he walked out of the room. The clinic was rather quiet since it was late in the evening, so Harry wasn't stopped on the way to the Apparition Point with last minute consultations and questions. As he walked past the stairs he stalled for a moment. He looked up the moving steps while thoughtfully biting his cheek. He glanced at the Apparition Point, then back up the stairs. After a few seconds, he walked to the steps.

He knocked on Draco's door gently, not wanting to wake the boy up if he was asleep. He cracked the door open and peeked inside. Draco wasn't asleep. "Hey," Harry whispered, feeling slightly unnerved by the quietness on the third floor. Most of the children were in bed.

"Hi," Draco said, looking up from his book.

"Just came to say good night."

"Good night."

"I'll be back for breakfast."

"Okay…"

Feeling oddly lighter, Harry closed the door and trekked back down to the lobby towards the Apparition Point. His mind was preoccupied as he Apparated to Grimmauld Place. So he was completely unprepared when a force knocked him against the shoulder, causing him to stumble back. With a flick of his wand, he cast a _Protego_ around him, his heart hammering. He was still on the landing of his home and he couldn't find anyone on the street or on the steps. "_Homenum revelio_," he murmured. Nothing happened. He waited a few more moments with his shield up, looking around at the ground to see what had tagged him. His shoulder was sore and his search revealed nothing. Now he started to wonder if he had dreamt it up. He hesitantly lowered his shield. No sooner had his wand arm lowered, he was shoved against the door. His wand was wrenched away, but he could see no one. He pushed at the magic vehemently, trying to break free from the force that was holding him still. The streetlights shattered, leaving Harry in utter darkness. He felt fingers wrapping around his throat, not hard enough to choke, but with enough pressure to cause him to stop struggling.

"Where is he?"

Harry froze as he willed his panic to stay at bay. There was a person there. But he hadn't seen anyone. He let the magic build up in him, like Remus had taught him. In one smooth burst, he let it out, feeling the force lift off of him. He staggered away from the door and swiftly stepped to the side, his hands outstretched against the dark. He heard a soft swear and slight shuffling on the pavement. He crept down in an instant, all the while trying to locate his wand. It was nowhere to be found.

"_Homenum revelio_."

Harry felt the wind rustling above his head and he looked up to find a white burst of light atop him.

He dove out of the way, knocking into the iron wrought fence as he dodged a silent stunning hex. In the red flare, he thought he had caught a glimpse of someone, but it was gone in a flash. He took a deep breath and sprinted forwards, head down. He knocked into a soft body and a soft yelp of surprise came from it. Harry kept running, feeling another revealing charm hovering over him. He ducked out of the way as a spell almost crashed into him. He stumbled over the cracked pavement as he heard footsteps running after him. Unexpectedly, he felt a hand grab his coat and jerk him to the right. He sprawled onto the empty road on his side.

"Is this really necessary?" a calm voice asked. Harry tried to scramble up, but another bout of holding charm was pushing him against the road.

"Yes," came a biting reply.

Harry's eyes widened in shock when he heard laughter from three others. The spell lifted off of him without warning. He was on his feet and running in the next. He didn't take more than ten steps before he was dragged back by the collar. He flailed his arms, connecting with another body, this time eliciting a loud curse. Harry's fist smarted as it flew into a jaw.

"Fighter, ain't he?"

Harry's arms were pulled around his back and held securely. That didn't stop his legs. He gritted his teeth as he kicked and knocked into knees and shins. More curses sounded before he was made to kneel on the deserted road. His knees hit the tar jarringly as he slumped down.

"Where is he?"

Harry stayed close-lipped. He didn't know what his attackers wanted, but whatever it was, he wasn't going to give it to them.

"Where's Ryder?"

Now Harry was thoroughly perturbed. Even as the hold on his arms grew into pain, he clamped his mouth shut. A sharp blow fell against his cheek, causing him to groan.

"What the fuck? Did you just hit him?" one of the voices asked, quite clearly not expecting that.

"He won't tell me!"

"There _are_ other ways to find out, birdbrain!"

"Fuck you too."

Harry knew the exact moment Legilimency was used against him. He clamped his mind down with vehemence. The pain helped keep him focused. He felt the pushing and prodding in his head, the magic trying to force its way in. His Occlumency had strengthened over the years and he was not about to let it break. He held on to his barriers as the forces grew more intense. He clenched his eyes shut while keeping his thoughts hidden away.

"Can't. Too strong."

A kick to his stomach winded Harry to the point where he was coughing and gasping for air.

"Stop hitting him! You are in so much trouble!"

"Fuck you! Why isn't he talking?" Harry felt a hand grabbing him roughly by the shirt and dragging him up. "Where's Ryder?"

Harry glared at the darkness defiantly.

"Maybe if you ask him nicely, he'll tell you," a sarcastic voice murmured.

Harry was thrown back to the ground unceremoniously.

"Are you sure it's him?"

"It's the right address, ain't it?"

Harry got up shakily, unsure of what was happening to him. His mind was getting overwhelmed with the physical pain now. He vaguely wondered if he had managed to break some bones again. His arms were pulled back again.

"What's your name?" the attacker asked roughly.

Harry blinked. "What?" he asked stupidly.

"Oh, so you _do_ talk. Where's Ryder?"

Harry's mind was moving through the conversation rapidly now. "Wait, you don't know who I am?" he asked in bewilderment. He was met with silence. He wondered if he should play his trump card. His pounding headache and slowly blooming black eye told him to. "I'm Harry Potter."

Several things happened at once at that point. Light flickered on above them. His arms were freed. Quick shuffling sounded. Loud swearing followed it all. Harry blinked against the sudden white light, shading his eyes. He finally caught sight of his assailants. In black attire, they blended in with the background. The five men were gaping at Harry with horror-stricken eyes. Harry backed away infinitesimally at the sudden appearance of the men. "Who's Ryder?" he asked in a careful tone, his panic settling and his thoughts finally shifting.

The men made no effort to reply, apparently content with staring at Harry. He wiped his lip as he felt blood trickling down. He saw one of the men flinch as he did it. "Um… If I could have my wand back, that'd be great."

The tall, lanky man with brown, close-cropped hair, looked down at his hand in astonishment, as though only just realizing that he had been holding another wand. He glanced at Harry wildly. Harry sighed in frustration, walking up to the stunned man and taking the wand from him. "Who's Ryder?" Harry asked again, finally secure now that he had his wand in his possession.

"H – Harry – Po – Potter?" the man stammered, his eyes instantly jumping to Harry's forehead.

"Yeah, see?" Harry said caustically, brushing away his hair to reveal the scar.

"Fuck…"

Harry's headache drummed into him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Please tell me you aren't the Unmentionables…"

A collective intake of breath confirmed his suspicions.

"And Ryder is Draco?"

Now the horrified expressions changed to uncertainty.

"You can answer yes or no…"

"Draco?" the burly man with heavyset eyes asked softly.

"You are looking for him. Why?" Harry asked, flicking his eyes at each man in turn. None of them could return his look. He sighed and quickly fixed his swelling face and bloodied lip. "There, see? No harm done," he said, rolling his eyes. The men looked back up in what seemed to be humiliation and immense concern. "Look, just – don't worry about it. Answer my question," Harry said tiredly.

"He's been missing for a week."

Harry frowned. "No," he said slowly. "He's been in the hospital for a week."

"What?" the men asked loudly.

"You don't know?" Harry asked in puzzlement.

"What happened to him?" the lanky man asked urgently.

"I – he – he was attacked," Harry stammered out. "Why don't you know this? Kingsley must've told you about –"

"The Minister?" the soft-spoken man asked in astonishment. "You talked to the Minister?"

"Um… I – yeah. Sure I did. How else would I know about you?"

"Where is he?" the burly man interrupted.

"St. Mungo's."

"Can we see him?"

Harry hesitated at this. He contemplated the five ridiculously dangerous looking men in front of him. "Not a good idea," he murmured.

"Why not?"

"He's – well, you see, he's - he came in with – um…" Harry realized that his choice of words were quite poor when the men actually started to look ill. "No, no, he's alright!" he said quickly, trying to reassure the Unmentionables. "There's just a problem that I need to fix…"

"What problem? And why would you fix it?"

"I'm his doctor."

"_You_?"

Harry smoothed his jacket in consternation. "Yeah, me."

"You hate his guts!"

Harry snorted in amusement at the glib comment. "How do you know that?"

The men looked at each other in confusion. "He told us…"

"Hmm… Don't worry, I'm not going to kill him because I hate his guts."

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a long while. Harry knew the men were worried about Draco, but he didn't understand why they didn't know what had happened to him. "You aren't allowed to see him, you know?" he said.

The men snapped back to attention. "What? Why?"

"No one knows who he is. I can't very well bring you guys to the hospital," he said sensibly.

"We have ways to work around that," one of them said ominously.

"Oh no, you don't," Harry said quickly, wondering how on Earth these men with such short fuses could get any work done. "What are your names?"

"I'm Brock. These are Marty, Tarver, Rainer, and Dune."

"Not your real names."

The men shook their head with a wry smile. "'Course not."

"What was he doing in Cardiff?"

Tarver, the dark-haired man who had Harry's wand, twitched in recognition. "How do you know these things?"

"Look, I need to treat him and I have on idea what spell he's under or potion he's –"

"It was just a regular sighting," Dune interrupted, stuffing his hands into his pockets uncomfortably.

"Why didn't anyone go with him?" Harry asked, trying not to come off as accusing.

"He said he needed some time," the heavyset man, Brock, said.

"What sighting was it?"

"Dementors."

Harry growled in frustration, running his hands over his sore face. "Do all of you have death wishes or something?" he asked impatiently.

"Or something…" Tarver murmured, glancing at his friends.

* * *

"Oh my gosh! What happened?" Susan asked in shock.

"What happened?" Harry asked, frowning at her.

"You have a black eye!"

"_What_?" He quickly conjured up a mirror. Sure enough, above his cheekbone was a slightly discolored patch of skin. "I thought I had fi – um… I – it – it's nothing. I'll take care of it," he said lamely. She rolled her eyes and flicked her wand at him. A flash of cold spread under his eye and he felt the heat moving away. "Or you can take care of it…" he muttered, reaching for his files.

"What's going on, Harry?"

"Nothing. What do you mean?"

"You've been so preoccupied lately. Is this about that new case? You always seem to be with that kid."

"He _is_ my patient, Susan."

"Hmm…"

"What hmm?"

"What, I can't hmm without permission?"

Harry smacked her head with the files in his hand. "Smart Alec," he muttered, starting his rounds for the day.

By the time nine o'clock rolled in, Harry had managed to escape Susan's watchful eyes and slip away to the third floor. Harry tried the playroom first.

He really shouldn't have.

The moment he stepped into the large carpeted room, a surge of children descended upon him, tugging him this way and that, telling him jokes and singing him songs. He had no idea how to get out. So he just laughed helplessly as he stayed put and swept his eyes among the thirty-odd children in the room to spot Draco. The boy was sitting against the wall, playing with a plethora of toys that surrounded him. He didn't seem to notice Harry's entrance.

He started calling out Draco's name, but stopped as a sudden thought encroached into his mind. "Ryder," he called out.

"What?" Draco asked irritably, looking up. The moment he spotted Harry, his grin appeared. "I _have_ to show you something!" he said excitedly, jumping up from his corner and running to Harry. He dragged Harry out of the room by the hand. Harry successfully extracted himself from the remaining clinging kids as he let Draco lead him.

They stopped in front of Draco's room. "Okay, close your eyes first," the boy said importantly, his hands on his hips. Harry obediently closed his eyes. "Don't look until I say so, okay?"

"Okay."

Harry heard the door open and he was pulled in. The moment the door closed, Draco said, "Open!"

He opened his eyes. And blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.

He was surrounded by trees.

He whipped his head around to find Draco's gleeful face staring up. He followed Draco's eyes upwards to find a large pale dragon flying against the blue sky.

They were still surrounded by three walls and a large window. But inside the room were trees that shot up to the sky. Or shot up to the illusion of a sky. The bed and couch lay on thick undergrowth. The trees were green and damp. The dead twigs snapped under their feet. It was like being in the Forbidden Forest.

"How did you do this?" Harry breathed.

Draco shrugged as he stomped through the trees to get to his bed. "I don't know. When I woke up, this happened."

Harry's concern multiplied tenfold. This was magic – magic beyond the power of a child. "How are you feeling?" he asked rapidly, weaving through the trees and sitting on the bed with the boy.

Draco frowned in confusion. "Fine… Do you like it?" he asked.

"Yes, Draco, I like it," Harry said, feigning patience.

"Good. Me too."

"Did you have any dreams last night?" he asked, pulling out his wand to cast assessment charms on Draco.

"Dreams?"

"Did you?"

Draco shrugged again. Harry supposed five year olds didn't find it necessary to keep track of dreams. "Dreams about the forest?" Harry aked.

"I don't know."

At first glance, there was nothing physically wrong with Draco. Harry's trepidation rose at this finding. He raised his eyes up to look at the floating dragon again. "Has he come down yet?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco said sullenly, wishing the dragon had.

"Okay…"

The two watched the creature spread its large wings above the canopy. The light flicked off of the dragon, casting gleams of rainbow against the trees and walls.

"I want to fly!" Draco announced happily.

"On him?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes! It would be lovely!"

"No, not really…"

Draco's excitement was almost tangible now. "You've ridden on one?" he asked, practically bouncing in bed.

Harry dropped his eyes back down to the pale blond with a wry smile. "It's not all that fun," he said.

"I bet it was _loads_ of fun!" Draco contradicted, gazing hopefully at the flighty creature.

Harry took in the entire scene before him. It even smelt like a forest, with the scent of dirt and rot wafting around the room. There were small trails leading from the bathroom to the bed. Along the window were strands of ivy with white flowers. Harry felt a drop of water land on his nose and he flinched. It was all so real.

Draco's magic was threatening to come out.


	4. Chapter 4

"You're right. His core is acting up," Penelope said as she scanned the computer screen.

Harry sat down heavily in the chair. "This can't be good," he said. "What do you think is happening?"

"His magic is growing faster than his body…"

"When will it stop?"

"Who knows? I have _never_ heard of a case like this."

"We need to age him. It's the only way."

Penelope swiveled around to face Harry. "Until we know how he became de-aged, we won't know how to age him."

"Which brings me to my next point. He remembers some stuff."

"As in his memory is coming back?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think it's coming back, per se. I think it's always been there. Or bits of it is still there."

The two doctors stared at each other in contemplation. Penelope quirked her brow at him. Harry groaned and leaned back against the chair. "Not the library," he whined.

Harry didn't have a problem with the medical library as is. He had a problem with the people in it. Namely, Ginny.

His clinical hours ended by seven. He was in Draco's room by seven fifteen. He had managed to bring it back to its original state, much to Draco's annoyance. Harry could tell that the boy was still miffed at him because he wasn't received by a grin. An angry pout welcomed him into the room.

"Hey," Harry said with a smile. He didn't get a reply. "How are you feeling?" The pout grew fiercer. "Had your supper?" A scowl followed. "Won't talk to me?" He shook his head curtly. "Well, then. I guess I'll just go," Harry said, making a show of turning around and walking away.

"Wait," Draco whined.

"Hmm?" Harry asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I'm angry at you."

"Oh? I hadn't noticed."

"You made my forest go away."

Harry nodded solemnly. "That I did."

"So I'm angry."

"And if I said I was sorry, what would you do?"

Draco crossed his arms in front of him, his scowl returning.

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

The scowl slipped away with the pout. "It's okay," Draco said begrudgingly, staring at the floor with purpose.

"Did you want to come to the library with me?"

The blond head shot up. "Huh?"

"Fifth floor. Library."

"Oh…"

"Do you want to come?"

Draco blinked at Harry in uncertainty. Then he nodded.

"Great," Harry said, beckoning Draco to follow him. The boy scrambled out of bed and followed him out of the room. "So, what did you do today?"

Draco mumbled about drawing and reading.

"Any more headaches?"

"No."

They didn't exchange words for the next few minutes as they walked up the stairs towards the hospice. The library was situated there because it was the quiet area and most of the children loved the idea of having books at their fingertips. Harry turned off at the landing, holding the glass door open for Draco. The boy stared up in awe at the brilliant roof that was a dome of windows. He could see the pink sky as clearly as if he were outside. The reception area was circular with doors lining along its walls. Each door led to a corridor with large bedroom suites. One of the larger double doors opened into the library. The couches spread across the waiting area were half-filled with parents, friends, and children. Everyone talked in whispers, as though that were the norm. Harry had always felt queasy walking into the floor. This was the floor where children beyond the ability to be repaired were led. Harry knew that most, if not all, of the children on this floor would die sometime in the near future. It was this that he couldn't handle. Death of a child was as painful as the death of a friend for Harry.

Draco's hand wrapped around his fingers and squeezed lightly. Reassuringly.

"Where is it?" the boy asked, a little too loud for the room.

Harry jerked his head at the door to the right. Draco pulled Harry along as he traipsed into the musty library. If possible, it was even quieter in the large space. Tables were half-filled with Healers, Mediwizards, parents, and children. A quarter of the library was sectioned off for the patients while the majority of it was filled with tomes of medical journals and articles.

Harry approached one of the dozen wooden stands by the windows. Draco was awestruck by the magnitude of the library. Atop the stands were blank sheets of parchment – the catalogue. Harry pressed his wand against it and muttered, "Healer Harry James Potter. Access to records on physical de-aging, aging potions and or spells, physical manifestations of overpowering magic."

Scrolling writing appeared on the parchment, black ink writing titles of books and page numbers of over twenty kinds. Harry grabbed the parchment and set off to the front desk, preparing himself mentally by holding on to Draco's hand with a death grip. He needed a hold on reality whenever he met with Ginny. For the present, he was going to use Draco.

"Hey," he said with a smile as he stopped by the desk.

Ginny looked up from her binding at the familiar voice. "Harry!" she squealed, jumping out of her chair and winding across the table to squeeze the breath out of him. "I haven't seen you in _forever_!" she said animatedly.

"Been busy," Harry said meekly.

"Sure. Busy enough not to bother coming up a flight of stairs?" she admonished, her hands on her hips. Harry merely blushed at this. "How have you been?" she asked.

"Great, great…"

"Good. Who's this?"

Harry looked down at the boy attached to him. "It's D – um, Ryder. One of my patients," he said.

"And I'm assuming you didn't come up here to just chat," Ginny said, cocking her brow.

Harry smiled sheepishly as he handed her the parchment. She tsked with a curl of her lip as she fed the paper into a cataloging machine without giving it a second glance. "Research? You hate research," she said as she waited for the books to be transported to the compartment in the cabinet.

"I know," Harry said glumly.

"Can't get any minions to do it?"

He shook his head in response, not wanting to divulge anything else.

"So… Let's talk about your love life."

With a thunk, the books arrived. Harry gulped nervously as he looked pointedly at the cabinet. Ginny took no notice, evidently more interested in gossip than anything else. After a few seconds, Harry realized that he wouldn't be getting his books until he answered her questions.

"What love life?"

She rolled her eyes as she turned her back to him and pulled the large, dusty volumes of books out of the compartment. "You're hopeless," she muttered.

"Why can't you just let it go?" he asked, gathering the mountainous volume of tomes in his arms. "You and Molly won't give me a break!"

"Yeah, because you're the most eligible bachelor around."

"See, this is why I never come up here."

"Because I'm talking sense?"

"No," Harry replied curtly, scowling at her before turning on his heel to find a table.

"When I'm finished up here, we're going to have a chat, Potter," she called out.

He slumped at this and walked faster, moving as far away from the reception desk as possible. Draco followed with a mild expression of amusement and confusion on his face. "Who is she?" the boy asked.

"Nobody," Harry replied, opting to sit at one of the corner desks that seated two. He picked Draco up and sat him firmly on the chair.

"No," Draco said patiently. "She's somebody. What's her name?"

Harry couldn't help chuckling at Draco's words. "Ginny."

"Hmm," the boy said importantly as he took a book from the pile and started to read it upside down. Harry had to clamp his teeth together to stop from snorting with laughter. He watched Draco 'read' for a while longer before getting to his research.

As expected more than half of the reports didn't pertain to de-aging. After quickly skimming through them, Harry discarded them with a flick of his wand, returning them to the circulation desk. The papers were easy to read. The books were a pain because of its structure. It was also getting difficult to write notes because Draco wasn't being all that pleasant after being made to sit in the chair for an hour.

"I'm bored," he pouted.

"Mhm," Harry murmured distractedly, letting his quill take notes for him as he pointed out sentences with his wand.

"Let's do something fun."

"Like what?" Harry asked, flicking to the bottom of the pile to see if he had missed anything.

"Where are the toys?"

"Around," Harry said vaguely.

"I'm going to go find them!" Draco said in excitement, jumping down from his seat.

"Whoa," Harry exclaimed, pulling the child back by the collar of his shirt. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Toys," Draco sulked.

"Really?"

"You won't play with me."

Harry smiled slightly. "Right. Because I'm working."

"So I'm going to play with toys."

It sounded reasonable to both Harry and Draco. The man sighed in defeat and tapped the boy's head with his wand, placing a magical marker so he could be found later. "Alright. But don't get into any trouble, understand?"

Draco nodded quickly, eager to get out of the stuffy library.

"And stay on this floor."

The boy nodded again, shifting from foot to foot.

"Go ahead."

With a happy giggle, he took off towards the door. Harry shook his head thoughtfully as he returned to his research. Not that he wanted to. Everything he found was morbid because all the de-aging cases seemed to end in painful death. There were many ways a person could become de-aged – potions, ancient spells, magical creatures, allergic reactions, and more. Usually re-aging depends on _how_ the person was de-aged. Unfortunately, Harry had no idea what had happened to Draco. So he wrote down all the possible ways to counteract the effects. Making the potion was a long and tedious process. It was difficult to de-age a person who had been hit with a spell. Harry prayed that Draco wasn't of this kind. Giving the person the right antidote could reduce the allergic reaction. There was no way to reverse de-aging that may have occurred during an attack by a magical creature.

What unsettled Harry the most was that patients with this complex did not live long enough to be re-aged. Their magical core was unstable because it continued to grow while the person was still bound in their young body. Harry knew that this was what was happening with Draco. There wasn't a lot of research done on how long it would take before the magic grew beyond the patient's means. Harry needed to move quickly. He would need to push the Minister into giving him more information.

At this thought, his mind flickered to the night before, when the Unmentionables had assaulted him. After a few mumbled apologies, they had vanished from the street. Harry figured they were hunting for answers, the same as him. On the one hand, he was glad that he didn't have to work alone in helping Draco. On the other hand, he was terrified that he was working with the most dangerous men in the Ministry. He hoped that with enough pressure, the Minister would divulge information dire to re-aging Draco.

"So," Ginny said loudly, screeching the chair obnoxiously. Harry had to use all his strength not to pound his head against the table repeatedly. "Tell me _everything_."

"There's nothing to tell, Gin."

"Now that's where your mistaken, lover boy."

"Shut it."

"Tell me."

Harry made a growl of frustration. "There's nothing to tell. So what am I supposed to say?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the paper.

"Fine," Ginny said. "Then marry me."

Now Harry really did pound his head against the table repeatedly. "Do you take pleasure in tormenting me?"

"Yes," she said simply. Then she got down on one knee and looked up at Harry with large, innocent eyes. "Harry James Potter, I have loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you."

Harry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The library went quiet at the loud proclamation. He glanced at the staring faces. "Nothing to see here, folks," he said bitingly. "And you," he added, turning to Ginny. "Get up."

"I haven't finished!" Ginny said indignantly. "Where was I? Um… love – right, loved you since I first saw you. Moving on," she murmured, grabbing Harry's hand in hers. "You used to tease me with those deep green eyes and heart-wrenching smile. And I was always –"

"Ginny!" Harry interrupted with a groan, trying to pull his hand away as he blushed. Soft giggles were emanating from the surrounding tables. "You're embarrassing me," he hissed.

"And I was always behind you," Ginny kept going, loud enough to silence Harry's protest. "But now I feel like I have finally caught up. I am right here, waiting. Will you marry me?"

Applause broke out in the library. "Oh, shut up, you lot," Harry said sharply, scowling at them. Then he turned to Ginny and said, "And no. For the millionth time, _no_. I _won't_ marry you."

Ginny pouted tragically, her lips trembling. "That wasn't the millionth time, you know? Just the forty sixth."

"Go. Away."

She stuck her tongue out at him as she got up on her feet. "I'll get you one day, Harry. Just you wait."

"I'll wait an eternity, thank you very much."

"Your face looks like a hippogriff's."

"Your _arse_ looks like a hippogriff's."

"Shut up, Boy-Who-Snores."

"I will when you do, slug eater."

"Why, I ought to –"

"Not before I give you –"

"Don't you dare –"

"Put that away!"

Harry and Ginny glared at each other, the former with a rolled up report in his hand and the latter with a sharpened quill in hers. The library dissolved into rambunctious laughter.

A moment later, sudden realization struck Harry and he lowered his 'weapon'. "That was a really good speech!" he said in surprise.

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows in acknowledgment. "I know, right? I worked hard on that one. Didn't think you'd avoid me for _that_ long."

"I'll have to start avoiding you for longer if it means I get to hear things like that. I might just have to jot that one down."

"Hey, hey, hey! My words, I get first dibs on them." The library started to quiet down now. Ginny sat back down on the chair and kept talking like she hadn't just made a scene. "Also, did you hear about Ron?"

Harry frowned. "What about Ron?"

"He's in the doghouse," she said gleefully.

Harry tried not to grin at Ginny's evil smirk. "And why is that?"

"He let Rose get on a broom."

Harry stared at the woman in unadulterated shock. "What the hell?"

"I know! She's, what, two?"

"What was he thinking?"

"Obviously he wasn't!"

They glanced at each other before bursting out into helpless giggles. "He deserves it!" Harry exclaimed between gasps.

"Are you imagining Rose toppling off the broom into the hedges, or is it just me?"

"Just you and your morbid imagination," he laughed behind his hand.

"Hey," Ginny said quickly. "Where's the kid?"

"Huh?"

"The kid you came with."

"Oh, he's hunting for toys," Harry said, shrugging.

"Whatcha reading?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nosey much?"

"No more than usual," she said, grabbing Harry's notes from under his palm. "Ooh! De-aging! Fancy," she said in awe.

"Just a case I'm working on," Harry said vaguely.

"Different kind of case, eh?"

"Yeah. You can say that again."

"Well, how was this patient de-aged?"

Harry shook his head. "Absolutely _no_ clue."

Ginny frowned. "Well, that sucks. There has to be some clue."

Harry tapped his foot unconsciously against the stone, contemplating his friend. "If I said he may have been near Dementors?" Harry asked.

Ginny smoothed her hair as she concentrated. Then her eyes went wide. "Wait! That boy is this patient, isn't he?" she asked. Harry didn't respond. Ginny's eyes shone with excitement. "I wanna see him!"

"No, you don't," Harry said sullenly.

"Yeah, I do."

"He looks like any other boy. Why would you want to see a random boy?"

"Because he's _not_ random! He's de-aged! Freakin' fantastic!"

"Yeah. Fantastic until he dies…"

"Well, yeah, obviously. But until then it's –"

"There is no 'until'!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm trying to make sure he won't die!"

"Fine, fine. Just Summon him already," Ginny said dismissively.

"You'll go away after you see him?"

"Probably not, but worth a shot," she said snidely, earning a kick on the shins for that.

Harry flicked his wand out in a short series of patterns. A minute later, Draco appeared around the corner, walking idly. "There he is," Harry said.

"Come here, you," Ginny said with a grin, holding out her hands at the boy. He glanced at Harry inquisitively. The man shrugged.

"Why?" Draco asked, his voice not quite masking suspicion.

Now Ginny pouted and turned to Harry. "What did you tell him?"

Harry held out his hands in surrender, trying hard to stop his smile for showing. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

She made a face at him before turning back to Draco. "I don't bite," she quipped, looking like she had every intention of doing just the opposite.

Draco sidled towards Harry in what he thought was an inconspicuous shuffle. In reality, it was quite comical to watch. It also explained Harry's loud snort of laughter, followed by shaky chuckles. Draco reached Harry safely in a few more steps, never taking his eyes off of Ginny. He hoisted himself up onto Harry's lap and settled down, scowling at the redhead.

"He's a smart one, isn't he?" Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing dramatically as she looked at the blond boy.

"Sure is," Harry said between laughs.

"De-aged, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Well, ask him."

Harry blinked at his friend. "Ask him what?"

"If he saw Dementors."

"He doesn't even know what Dementors are," Harry said. Then he stopped. "Do you?" he asked, now looking down at Draco.

"Huh?"

"Dementors. Do you know what they are?"

Draco frowned up at Harry. "What?"

"Dementors?"

The frown deepened. "What are Denemtors?"

"See?" Harry said, looking at Ginny in derision.

"Maybe if you describe it to –"

"No way in hell am I describing a Dementor to him!" Harry interjected in horror.

"Fine," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "I'll describe it to him."

"Ginny, you have no clue how to handle kids, do you?" he asked in helplessness.

"He's not a child. He's probably a creepy old guy. Imagine that. There's a creepy old guy on your lap, Harry."

Harry laughed warily. "Do you take _anything_ seriously?"

"No point," she remarked casually. "Anyways, back to him." She looked down at Draco. "Do you remember seeing black cloaks?" she asked.

"When?'

"Before you came to the hospital."

Draco shrugged.

"Okay," Ginny said slowly. "Was it night time?"

He shrugged again. "It was dark."

"There. See?" she said triumphantly, looking at Harry. "We're getting somewhere."

"Yeah. Great to know he was taken in the dark," he muttered.

Ginny conveniently ignored Harry. "Okay, so you were in the dark. Was it hot or cold?"

Draco thought about this for a second. "Cold," he said thoughtfully, curving against Harry.

"Good. Did you hear anything? Or was it quiet?"

He twitched his nose reflexively. "It smelled gross."

"What did?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know. It just smelled gross."

"What smell was it?"

"I don't know."

Ginny nodded. "That's fine. So, was it quiet?"

"Yeah… I guess."

"You can't remember seeing anything?" she asked. Harry was listening intently, his chin on the crown of Draco's head.

"It was dark," Draco said deliberately, as though wondering why the woman couldn't get that into her head.

Ginny smirked at the response. "Right, of course it was. Next question then. Were you happy or sad?"

"Huh?" Draco asked, evidently not expecting the question.

"That night. Were you feeling happy or did you feel sad?"

He squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't know," he murmured.

Ginny gave Harry a look. He sighed and glanced down at the boy. "Were you scared?" he asked.

Draco twisted his shirt in his fingers, looking at his hem with a newfound interest.

Ginny mouthed, 'Guess he was' with a nod. Harry nodded faintly. "Did you hear anything?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk anymore."

They frowned at Draco's words. "Why not?" Harry asked.

"I don't."

"Because… you remember?" Ginny asked.

Draco held still, his fingers freezing against the fabric. Harry felt it. "You do?" he asked in astonishment.

"I want to see Mummy."

Harry stifled a groan. He looked at Ginny helplessly. She looked troubled as well. "Why do you need to see Mummy?" she asked.

Draco swallowed loudly. "I want to see her," he said thickly.

"Something you heard scared you?"

"I just want to see her."

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco. "She's not here," he said, trying to figure out a way to make Draco understand.

"I want her now."

"Why?" Ginny prodded.

Draco tried to break out of Harry's grip. "I'll find her," he said, tears streaming.

"You _can't_ find her," Harry said rapidly, tightening his hold.

"I can find her," the boy sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry murmured, hugging the boy close.

Ginny's eyes sharpened and a confused frown dawned. "D – Draco?" she breathed, staring at Harry. He closed his eyes in frustration as he held the crying boy against him. "Malfoy?" Ginny asked in shock.

"I have to help her."

"Help Mum?" Harry asked. Draco nodded. "Why?"

"She's scared," the boy whispered.

"I don't understand," Harry said desperately.

Draco renewed his efforts to shake free from Harry's arms. "Let go," he said through gritted teeth.

"No."

"Let me go," Draco said angrily, kicking and punching.

"Draco, listen –"

"Harry," Ginny gasped, staring at the table. The quills and books were trembling from unseen forces.

Harry quickly picked Draco up and turned him around so they were now facing each other. "Stop," he said, taking in the boy's teary cheeks and furious eyes.

"Let go," Draco said, pushing at Harry with his arms.

"No." The table started to shudder and Harry felt waves of warmth hitting him. "You need to calm down. You need to stop. Now."

Draco let out a snarl of frustration. Loud fluttering sounded around them as the papers flew to the ground and books swirled up in the air.

"Ginny," Harry said shakily. "Get everyone out of here."

"What?" she asked, still in shock as she stared at the desk that was now slamming against the wall furiously.

"Get everyone out," he said urgently, finally looking at Ginny. She saw the terror in his green eyes. "You have to get everyone out. Please." She nodded in a trance and got up. "And," Harry added. "His name's Ryder, okay?" She nodded again, glancing at the shaking boy in Harry's hands.

Harry didn't notice her take off because he had turned his eyes towards Draco again. "You have to tell me what's wrong with Mum," he said.

"I don't know," Draco muttered, punctuating each word with a harsh kick. "Let go."

Harry pulled out his wand and created a quick barrier between their side of the library and the rest. "I can help, Draco," he pleaded.

"You can't," the boy spat out.

"I can. Just tell me. What happened to you?"

"He hurt Mummy," Draco shouted. The table splintered against the wall. Harry shielded the boy from the flying shards of wood. "Stop him!"

Harry crushed Draco against him, trying to strengthen the trembling body. "Don't do this," he said, feeling the boy heat up past normalcy against him. "I'll stop him, okay? I'll stop him from hurting Mum."

"_You're lying_," Draco screamed. "You didn't stop him!"

"Please, Draco –"

"I can't help her," he sobbed. "I can't – she's – please. I just want to see her."

"I'm sorry," Harry said helplessly.

"_He killed her!_"

A violent thunder announced the walls caving in. Harry felt Draco stiffen and then fall limp. "No," he gasped as he stumbled away. A slab of stone hit his leg, causing him to fall to his knees. The windows shattered, sending shards of glass flying out into the street. The last thing Harry felt were small fingers clutching his robe and a sharp pain in his head.

* * *

Harry awoke with a start, whipping his arms out and bolting upright. "Where is he?" he asked in fright. A second later he realized that he couldn't see. He roved his hands over his bed for his wand, but came up empty.

"_Lumos_."

Harry shielded his eyes from the light. "Holy fuck," he swore, nearly falling out of bed when he saw the Unmentionables by the bed.

"Sorry," Brock said gruffly, shifting his weight.

Once Harry got over his shock, he glanced at the five men with a cleared head. "Where's Draco?" he asked, feeling nauseous and not quite wanting to hear the wrong answer.

"He was de-aged…" Rainer said quietly, tilting his head at Harry.

"Is he alright?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Yeah."

Harry released his hold on his sheets as relief flooded him. "Good," he murmured. "Where is he?"

Brock looked at Tarver, apparently waiting for him to give the answer. Tarver stuffed his hands into his pockets. "The Ministry…" was all he said.

Harry frowned. "Huh? What about the Ministry?"

"He's in their medical facility. Sedated."

"Sedated?" Harry exhaled in confusion. "What?"

"He can't – his magic is too strong. He can't control it," Dune said.

Harry blinked at the men blankly. "So they sedated him?"

"Yeah."

"And took him away…"

"Yeah."

"Can they help him?"

The men shrugged, unsure.

"Was anyone hurt?"

Brock snorted. "Besides you?"

"Y – yeah. Besides me," Harry stammered.

"I think you being hurt was enough. The place was crawling with press."

"Oh…"

"You have no idea, do you?"

"Idea of what?"

"You were buried under stone. Fuck, you should be dead!" Tarver exclaimed.

Harry's jaw dropped in shock. "Wh – how – how long was I out?"

"Three days today."

"Shit!" Harry swore, pushing away the covers and scrambling to get up. "We don't have time. We need to figure out what happened to him," he said hastily. The moment he was up on his feet, he staggered back and fell onto his bed. "Whoa," he muttered, his head pounding painfully.

"Yeah," Rainer said. "Moving is not such a good idea for you right now."

"Damn it," Harry muttered, dropping his agony-ridden head in his hands. "I need to –" He stopped. Then he looked up at the Unmentionables. "You."

The men looked at each other, wondering how delusional Harry really was. "Yeah. Us," Brock said, humoring Harry.

"You can help!"

Rainer and Dune looked at each other and shrugged. Tarver frowned at Harry. Brock looked interested. "With what?"

"We need to figure out what happened to Narcissa."

"Who?"

"Draco's mum," Harry said in disbelief.

"Um… Why?" Tarver asked.

"It's what got him upset. He thinks she was murdered."

Dune made an ungodly sound. "What the hell?"

"I thought it was…" Brock trailed off.

Harry shook his head. "He doesn't think so."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Tarver asked.

"I think he met with the Dementors. And someone else…" Harry answered. The men looked unsure as they stared at him. "The last thing he remembered is nighttime, the cold and a stench. Then he started screaming about helping his mother. It must have been triggered," he explained.

"By the Dementors? He's never had trouble with them before," Rainer said, running his fingers through his brown hair. "We've captured so many."

"It wasn't just the Dementors. Don't you see? Someone hit him with Sectumsempra first. He couldn't fend off the Dementors," Harry said insistently.

"How was he de-aged then?"

Harry was at a loss for words at this question. He just shrugged.

Tarver sighed impatiently. "This isn't enough information. We need to figure out who was there," he said.

"Start with Narcissa, then," Harry reiterated. "He thinks she was killed. We need to find out what happened to her."

"It was all over the papers," Dune said. "The spell was from her own wand, for heaven's sakes!"

Harry resisted the urge to strangle Dune. "What if Draco went looking for him?" he asked tiredly.

The men perked up at this question. "What?"

"What if that's what Draco went to Cardiff for? To find this man?"

"N – no. He – he would tell us," Tarver stammered. "He'd tell us."

"If there's one thing he can do, it's keep secrets," Harry murmured.

"You think he went looking for – hell, we don't know who he was looking for," Brock said, kicking the wall vehemently.

"Whoever it was had something to do with Narcissa. Why the fuck is this so hard to understand?" Harry asked in exasperation.

"Because he's never lied to us…" Marty said quietly. Harry realized that this was the first time he had heard the slight brunette talk. The men grew quiet at the statement, shuffling uncomfortably.

"He _is_ capable of lying," Harry said deliberately. "He _can_ lie."

"Not to us."

"Even if it was to protect you?"

Marty's blue eyes pierced Harry. "We don't need protecting," he said calmly.

"Maybe he didn't think so," Harry said.

The room was bathed in silence for a long while. Marty never took his eyes off of Harry. The latter marveled at how important trust was to these men. Their lives were placed for safekeeping in each other's hands. Harry understood why it was so difficult for the men to accept the possibility that Draco had lied to them.

"Narcissa died… two years ago?" Marty asked. Harry nodded.

"That's when he changed," Tarver murmured.

Harry piqued at this absent confession. "Changed… How?"

Brock shook his head despondently. "His mother died. Of course he changed," he said. "He just – he was brooding a lot. I mean, he was always like that. But after she died, he just seemed to be more so. We didn't – we never thought much of it…"

"He was reckless?" Harry asked.

"No. The opposite. He would get angry at us for being reckless," Rainer said.

"And…"

"I don't know," Tarver said. "He didn't talk as much, I guess."

"But," Dune interrupted. "We didn't even notice it after a while. We just got used to it, I guess."

"You think it was because he knew something?" Marty asked Harry.

"Maybe. I don't know. He doesn't really have any memories. I don't know what happened to him," he said vaguely.

"You want us to find out what happened to Narcissa…"

"Yes."

The men looked at Marty, who was gazing at the floor with a thoughtful expression. "Okay," he murmured. "We'll find out."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry poked at his bruised ribs in consternation. The ugly shade of green was spread over an entire side of his chest. He tried to move his shoulder without wincing, which seemed near impossible. The door shot open at the instant.

"We all know you're hot, Harry. Put your shirt back on," Ginny drawled, rolling her eyes as she waltzed in.

Harry made a face at her before turning to his sore chest. "Look at this," he said in defeat. "I can't even move!"

"Serves you right," she said, jolting the bed as she sat down.

"Ow!"

"So. What _exactly_ happened?" she asked intently.

"He damned near blew up," Harry muttered, trying to spell his bruises away with his wand.

"He being Draco Malfoy, yes?"

"Um…"

"Yes. Now that we've got that cleared up, _what the hell was that_?"

"Er…"

"He's been de-aged? Better yet, he's alive?"

"Erm…"

"And he damn near got you killed!"

"Uh…"

Ginny jabbed Harry's ribs furiously. He yelped in pain and swatted her hand away, yelping in pain again when he overextended his muscles. "Ginny! That hurts so bloody bad!" he swore, eyes tearing up from the shooting aches.

"First tell me why he's alive. Then I'll stop," she said, pulling her hand away nonetheless.

"I – I can't. I don't think I'm allowed to," he said miserably.

"Why the hell are you helping him?"

Harry closed his eyes in annoyance. "I said I can't talk about it," he said.

"You're a first-class prick, you know that?" she asked vehemently. "You almost die and scare the life out of us. And now you won't tell me _why_ you almost died!"

"Just promise me you won't go snooping, alright?" Harry said in desperation. Ginny answered with a scowl. "I'm doing everything I can to put an end to it. I promise to keep safe," he added.

* * *

Harry passed through a myriad of sensors. His wand and visitor badge was checked. His status of Savior didn't seem to cut it in the Ministry hospital. Most times, this would have made him more than happy. This wasn't one of those times. He just wanted to get in. He tried to ignore the throbbing in his chest and arm as the magic tugged at him, searching for objects and charms that could interfere with the magic in the building. After finding none, the guards gave him a curt nod before handing back his wand and badge. They waved him through unceremoniously. He walked through the bland doors into the bland foyer. Compared to the Children's, this hospital was more than lacking. He reached the reception desk where the wizard looked at him quizzically. That's when he realized that he had no idea who he was supposed to search for.

"A child was brought in a week ago. I'm not sure if you know of him. Erm… His name –"

Before he could finish, the wizard behind the desk said, "Badge," monotonously.

"Right," Harry murmured, pulling out the small laminated card and handing it to the man. He watched at the badge was fed into a certifier. A couple seconds later, letters scrolled on a small piece of parchment on the desk. The man tore it out of the notepad and handed it to Harry, along with the badge.

"Fifth floor," he added, pointing towards the elevator.

Harry nodded uncertainly, reading the parchment. _Ryder Black, Room 577, Priority Red_. "Thanks," he said absently, walking towards the said elevators. A minute later, the empty elevator pinged to the fifth floor. His low enthusiasm dropped even lower when the door opened to reveal a drab grey corridor. Each door had the room number written on it. It seemed to take him forever, but he finally reached 577. It unnerved him that the hall was so empty. At his hospital, he rarely had a moment's silence. Now it was too still. He knocked surreptitiously, the sound carrying loudly. He didn't hear an answer. He pushed it open slowly. The room revealed a twin bed with white sheets, pale walls, and a bedside table with a lamp. The window seemed to have been fitted as an after thought, looking out into the wall of the next building. Harry couldn't see Draco's face as the boy was turned on his side, either dozing off or staring out at the bricks through the glass.

"Draco," Harry whispered, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.

The boy whipped his head around in fright, not having heard Harry enter. He blinked in awe. "Harry? What… Hi," he stammered, sitting up quickly.

"Hi," Harry echoed bleakly.

"I – I'm sorry," Draco said softly, his words catching in his throat. "Don't leave."

Harry had Draco in his arms in the next instant. He felt the small, terrified heart beating into him. He held Draco close. "It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm not leaving," he said, patting Draco's back.

"I hurt you," Draco breathed, trying to fight back his tears. "Mummy says I shouldn't hurt my friends. I'm sorry."

"You didn't mean to, Draco," Harry said. "It's not your fault. I'm not angry, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

They sat in silence, preoccupied with thoughts. Harry took the time to assess Draco's health. He flinched when he saw the multitude of newly formed bones and bruises. Harry supposed he shouldn't be surprised. If he had barely escaped being crushed to death, he didn't know how Draco had. He also found large quantities of calming and sleeping draughts in the boy's system. _Sedated_. Draco's hands that were looped around Harry's neck slipped. He jerked awake and renewed his hold. "I fell asleep," the boy murmured thickly, his head against Harry's shoulder.

"You can sleep if you want to," Harry said reassuringly.

Draco mulled the words over, shifting against Harry. "Can you stay?" he asked carefully.

Harry smiled sadly at the statement. "Of course. I'll be here."

Draco nodded and closed his eyes again. It was so easy to sleep. He wished he could sleep forever. Harry leaned against the headboard and pulled his legs onto the bed. With Draco against his chest, he crossed his legs, feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. His breath soon mimicked Draco's. He stared at the wall, deep in his thoughts.

He ran the conversation in the library through his mind. The more he thought of it, the stronger it seemed to embed into his mind. Draco had seen his mother get killed. _How_? _And by whom?_ There was no other explanation. He had tried to save his mother, but failed at it. That is what he was trying to tell Harry. He was trying to tell Harry to save Narcissa. This thought sparked another. Narcissa knew Draco was alive. Inexplicably, this gladdened him. Narcissa died knowing her son was alive. But she need not have died at all. Perhaps the Dementor sighting in Cardiff was not the complete picture. Draco knew something else. He knew he could catch the killer. And then… _Then all goes to shit_, Harry thought dully. He hoped the Unmentionables were having better luck than he was. That morning he had showed up at the Minister's office. It had taken him over an hour of persuasion to let Kingsley give him permission to see Draco. And that was all he could get, a visitor's badge. He wasn't allowed to look at the charts or assist in treatment. Kingsley's argument was that it wasn't Harry's job to risk his life over a Ministry employee.

A Ministry employee… _Hell, I risked my life for the whole world. Why can't I risk my life for a Ministry employee_? Then he snorted as he thought of Draco in Ministry robes. _Ministry employee, my arse._ Draco murmured against him at the sound and kneed him in the chest. "Fuck," Harry swore with a gasp as he pulled Draco's knee off of his ribs.

"That's a bad word," Draco whispered. "Don't say it."

Harry nearly snorted again when he thought of the number of times Draco had used even worse swears on him. "Sorry," he said instead. "You hit my bruise."

"What's a bruise?" Draco asked.

Harry blinked. "Um… I'm just sore on my side. I have a bruise on my side."

"Oh? Can I see?" the boy asked, unwinding his arms. Harry supposed fifteen minutes was enough time for a powernap for a boy. He shrugged and pulled his shirt up slightly. Draco's face fell instantly. "Oh no! What happened?" he asked in dismay.

"Same thing that happened to you," Harry said, letting his shirt drop.

"I have it too," Draco said, pulling up the leg of his pajama bottoms. "See?" he asked, pointing to the purpling bruise on his shin. "I have lots of them. They hurt."

"I know," Harry said. "It'll go away in a few more days."

"Do you have a bruise on this side?" Draco asked, pointing to Harry's right side. Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Good," Draco said decisively. He crawled off of Harry's lap and pulled at him. "I won't kick you this time," he said in a grim tone. Harry scooted down as Draco had indicated. The boy placed his head on Harry's shoulder again, curling into him. "Better?" he asked, putting a gentle hand on Harry's sore ribs. Harry's heart nearly melted at this gesture. He nodded. Draco smiled and closed his eyes. "Me too," he murmured. He brushed against Harry's neck. "Thanks for calling me Draco," he said, falling into an easy sleep again.

Harry tightened his hold on the boy. "Thanks for calling me Harry…"

* * *

A gentle shake on his arm woke Harry up. He blinked groggily. Afternoon had turned to dusk. He felt Draco's breath against him. He turned his head when he felt the hand return to his arm. Tarver was staring at him with a hidden expression.

"Oh! Sorry," Harry stammered, blushing as he extracted himself from Draco's grip and sat up. The boy whimpered and scrunched his face. Harry flicked his eyes at Tarver hesitantly before collecting the boy in his arms. Draco wound his arms around Harry's neck again and his confused sobs turned into soft breathing. Harry rubbed circles on Draco's back, putting him back to sleep. "He didn't want me to leave," Harry said lamely.

"It's fine," Tarver said. "I just – I just wanted to see how he was doing…"

"He's doing good. He's not very coherent. But he's doing good."

Tarver nodded. "When I came earlier… He – he didn't recognize me."

"He doesn't have his memory," Harry said, brushing down Draco's hair. Then he laughed humorlessly. "If he did, I'd probably be in a body-bind hex…"

Tarver smiled and said, "Yeah, probably." He sat down on the chair. "It's just that I – I thought he'd remember me, you know? I mean, I've worked with him for so long."

"You were his partner?" Harry asked.

"I _am_ his partner."

Harry shook his head apologetically. "Right. You _are_ his partner," he corrected.

"I trained him. I watched him get better. I helped him get stronger. And he – I can't believe he lied to me," Tarver said, looking away.

"If you were in his shoes?" Harry asked.

"I'd tell him. I always tell him everything. I trust him. But he doesn't trust me? I just wish I knew."

"What did you find out?"

Tarver clenched his fists, as though pulling his emotions back to reality. He took a deep breath through his nose, clearing his mind. "Okay. Narcissa Malfoy was killed January twenty-fifth of two thousand five. She was found in her home, in the drawing room. Her wand revealed the spell to be the Killing Curse. No other injuries. No signs of forced entry. Nothing displaced that could be noticed. No other rebounding magical residue. Clean suicide."

"Except it's not," Harry said.

Tarver sighed and rubbed his temple. "Why do you keep insisting that it's not? There's nothing else it could be," he said emphatically.

Harry frowned. "Draco said –"

"Look, we don't know what Ryder was doing that night. We don't know what he was playing at," Tarver interjected, standing up. "But whatever it was, he should have known better. He – Damn it!" He kicked the chair, causing it to hit the wall jarringly. "Fuck."

Draco jerked awake at the commotion. "Too loud," he grumbled, pulling away from Harry's shoulder and wiping his mouth. "What's wrong?" he asked, searching Harry's stunned expression. He looked back and saw Tarver standing frozen next to the bed. "Oh…" the boy murmured, his eyes flicking to the chair that was on the floor. "You did that?" he asked, turning around on Harry's lap. "You aren't supposed to," he admonished. Tarver looked at Harry in bewilderment. Draco slid off of Harry gingerly and hopped onto the cold tiles. "Whoa," he said, flailing his arms as his dizzy head caused everything to spin. Before Harry could right him, the boy fell on his hands and knees.

"You alright?" Tarver asked in panic, kneeling beside the boy.

"He's fine," Harry said quickly, getting off of bed himself. "He's – dopey…"

"Yeah. I'm fine," Draco giggled. "I can't stand up." He grabbed Tarver's shoulder and hoisted himself up again. "I'm fine. See?" he said, letting go of Tarver and swaying to the side. The man caught him quickly, before more bruises were added to the old ones. Draco absently patted Tarver's cheek. "You came here yesterday. What's your name?" he asked.

"T – Tarver."

"Yeah. You told me. I'm Draco. Not Ryder. Okay?"

Tarver nodded breathlessly. "Draco," he said.

"Yeah. That's Harry," he added, pointing. "He's my best friend."

Harry chuckled at the introduction. Tarver looked at him incredulously. Harry shrugged in return. "He is, is he?" Tarver asked absently, bringing his eyes back to Draco. "You were a cute one, weren't you?"

Draco responded with a cheeky grin, although he had no idea what Tarver was talking about. Harry walked to the window to stare out into the abysmal view. "Have you tried going to Cardiff?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tarver said. "Haven't found anything."

"Mind if I took a look?" Harry asked.

* * *

The two arrived on the darkened hill at nightfall. "The sighting was around here," Tarver said, waving his hands at the edge of the park. "There does seem to be some magical influence here, but it's too faint. We don't know if it's Dementor or not."

"Hmm…" Harry murmured, walking to the trees. It looked familiar. Like the ones Draco had conjured in his room. "You've tried the forest?" he asked.

Tarver sighed in exasperation. "Yes. But it's so big. We could have easily missed something. We don't know where to look," he said.

Harry nodded and beckoned for Tarver to follow him as he set off into the trees. He silently lit his wand. The light revealed blue undergrowth and black tree trunks. They followed the trail for ten minutes. Harry wasn't sure what to look for. He needed to find something familiar, something that will help jog his memory.

"When he came to you," Tarver started saying, "he had a note?"

"Yes. He wrote it, I believe. He asked for me."

"Why would he ask for you?"

"I knew how to heal the wound."

"You were the only one?" Tarver asked, his disbelief barely masked.

"Yes. It is not a well-known curse. I am one of the few who knows how to heal the wounds. It was terrifying, to say the least. He had lost so much blood," Harry said, shivering in his jacket as he recalled the day.

"Because it was Dark Magic…"

"Yes."

Crunch of leaves followed for another minute. "Which means he was de-aged after he got the wounds," Tarver said.

"Yes. It's the part I don't understand. If they wanted to kill him, why not use the Killing Curse? If they wanted to hurt him, why not leave him with the wounds? Why go through the process of de-aging him?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps it was accidental. Something happened."

Harry nodded. "Must be."

"They found him in Newport. Why bother transporting him?"

"Maybe they were taking him to another location for interrogation. Is that possible? Do you guys have that kind of information?" Harry asked. He took Tarver's silence as an affirmation. The trail was thinning now. They stepped over fallen logs. Harry could hear the faint trickle of water from the creek up ahead. "Did he ever tell you why he joined?" he asked.

"He just showed up one day, out of the blue. Understandably, we didn't want anything to do with him. He was a Malfoy, after all. I don't know why he joined. I'm just glad he did. He's saved our lives more times than we can count. We don't bother counting." He smiled at his own private joke as he kicked the stone away. "No, he never told me. I guess, eventually, it didn't really matter why. He is one of us now, not a Malfoy."

"Not a Malfoy…"

"You know why he joined?" Tarver asked.

Harry raised his eyes ponderously. "I –" he started saying before staggering to a halt. A curtain of ivy crept up trees. Against the light, the white flowers appeared to shimmer. "Here," Harry breathed, running his eyes up the tall trees. "Somewhere here."

Tarver frowned in confusion. "How the hell do you know?" he asked.

"Draco showed me. I just wasn't sure… Until now. Can you tell?"

Tarver looked at Harry strangely before taking out his wand and performing charms rapidly. No sooner had the first three charms been laid, the ground started to glow red. The man swallowed. "Yes. Dementors."

Harry cautiously approached the lit spatters, holding his wand to the ground. He was searching. For what, he didn't know. He just knew he needed to find something. Tarver was now performing more diagnostics on the area surrounding them. Harry reached the coils of ivy that wound around the trees. The white flowers rustled as he touched the plant. As he shuffled to the side, his shoe landed on something. He bent down, bringing his lighted wand towards his feet. "I found his wand," Harry said, picking up the hawthorn.

"His wand?" Tarver asked. "He didn't have it on him?"

"He didn't have anything on him but that note," Harry said, holding out the wand for Tarver to look at.

After a few seconds of silence, Tarver nodded and stowed the wand in his jacket. "Okay. I've run some more spells. I'm going to report to he Ministry now. We'll send down a team to do a thorough work up. But at first glance, Dementors were here," he said.

"Draco knows how to produce a Patronus, doesn't he?" Harry asked.

"Usually. He has his days, like the rest of us. But he's alive, isn't he? The Kiss couldn't have been performed because he's still… him."

Harry mulled over the words. "Yeah, you're probably right… Accidental…"

* * *

The Unmentionables started gathering names of people who could have possibly meant harm to Draco while having access to the Ministry. The public was unaware of Draco's existence. None of them could remember exactly where Draco had been on the day of Narcissa's death. They just remembered the devastating blow that followed it. Their theory was that Narcissa was not the intended target of the Killing Curse. If she were, anyone could have killed her years ago. She did not have protection from the Ministry. Draco went to visit his mother and was followed. The Killing Curse was aimed at Draco, but killed Narcissa instead. They couldn't understand why, after all this time, Draco went to visit Narcissa. Harry's far-fetched explanation was subject to much scrutiny by Dune and Tarver. The rest tried to validate Harry's thoughts using hard evidence. In most cases, memories are evidences. Unfortunately, Draco did no have his memory.

_Or rather, he does, but I don't know how to get to it…_

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Really, Harry? Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Awful."

Harry's expression turned sour. "It's not _that_ bad," he said, sniffing carefully.

"I'm sorry, mate, but you are hopeless."

Harry sighed in frustration as he dropped the leaking casserole on the counter. "That does it. I am never cooking, _ever again_."

"That's the spirit," Ron said, taking another swig of his Butterbeer. "So, what's the occasion?"

"Pot luck. Why the hell am I stuck making a casserole, anyway? I just wanted to bring the crisps," Harry grumbled, swishing his wand at the slightly burned ceramic dish. The mess cleaned itself up. "This sucks royally. What do I do now?"

"You can always _buy_ a casserole. It's what everyone does," Ron muttered sensibly.

Harry made a face at Ron. "Shut it." He started to clean up his ruined kitchen.

"Hmm? What's this?"

Harry turned around to glance at Ron. "What's what?" he asked, watching Ron read a small piece of parchment. "Where'd you get that?" he asked, wiping his hands on his shirt.

"I dunno. Just sort of appeared on the counter right now. Who's Ryder?"

Harry's heart plummeted. He snatched the paper from Ron's hand. _Ryder is getting worse_. "Shit," he swore. "I have to go. Sorry," he said, rushing towards the door.

"Wait, what? Where?"

A slamming door answered Ron.

Harry was in the building in the next minute, pushing past security and sprinting to the elevators. He squeezed through the still opening doors when he reached the fifth floor. The previous day's quiet was now disrupted with loud alerts and swarms of Mediwizards. Harry weaved through them, his heart hammering. As he neared the room, the apprentices stopped him.

"Sir, you cannot go past this point," they said, trying to reason with the frantic man.

"I need to get to 577. I just – what's wrong with him?" Harry asked. "I'm a doctor." The apprentices looked at each other in uncertainty. Harry fished out his license and shoved it into the awaiting hands. "Okay?"

The witch ogled Harry and flicked her eyes back to the card. "Mr. Potter?" Her colleagues gaped at this. Harry took the opportunity to push his way through the crowd.

"What's happening?" he asked the waiting physician.

"Uncontrolled magic. I need you to clear the area."

"How can I help?" Harry urged.

"You can help by evacuating," the wizard said, looking tempted to roll his eyes.

"I've been his doctor for the past two weeks," said Harry desperately, just wanting to get inside the room.

The man frowned in puzzlement. "You have? Have I seen you before?" he asked.

"_Yes_!" Harry said loudly. "Yes! I'm Harry Potter!" he exclaimed, hoping it worked. It did. Like the apprentices, his jaw dropped. "Right," Harry said, nodding as he was let through. He unlocked the door with a quick flick of his wand. He was pushed back by a heat wave that caused the door to slam against the wall violently. Flames licked out of the door. Harry cast a quick Flame Freezing charm on himself before running in. Roar of fire greeted him. He had to shield his eyes from the red flames. The walls were peeling and the furniture was warped beyond recognition. In the centre of the room, an untouched circle had Draco in the middle. The boy was on his hands and knees, sobbing. Harry waved the flames away with his wand as he moved in. The heat was still unbearable. Once he fought his way to the middle, he ran to Draco.

"You have to control it. Please," Harry said, picking Draco up and holding him close.

"What's happening?" he asked brokenly. "I can't stop."

"You need to. Stop pushing the magic away. Pull it in."

"I don't know how. I don't know," he screamed, trembling in Harry's arms.

"You will hurt so many people if you don't," Harry pleaded.

Draco clutched Harry's shirt. "I can't stop," he cried. "Help me."

Harry pressed his forehead against Draco's shoulder and closed his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. The flames were threatening to come undone from the charms that were in place. Draco was losing his grip on everything now. "Use me," he murmured, opening his eyes to the bright light. "Draco, use me. Push your magic into me," he said urgently. "Don't let it out on the room. Let it out on me. Can you do that?"

"I don't know," Draco whispered, slipping in and out of consciousness.

"No. Don't sleep. Please, you need to do this. I need to save you," Harry said in distress, shaking the boy awake.

"It hurts…"

With a loud crack, the window shattered, spewing glass shards outside. As more oxygen flowed in, the flames grew bigger. Harry staggered back from the sudden heat. Draco was limp in his arms now.

"No, no. Wake up. Draco, wake up," Harry said, his terrified heart faltering. "Please. You need to wake up." Draco groaned and fluttered his lids as he tried to do as Harry had said. "Look at me." Draco opened his eyes and stared at Harry with unfocused eyes. "Push the magic into me," Harry said emphatically, trying to catch his breath.

Draco frowned while bringing up his hand to touch Harry's cheek. "Potter?" he asked vaguely.

Harry blinked. "What?" he asked.

"What are you doing here?"

"Malfoy?" Harry breathed in bewilderment. After a moment of coming up blank, he emerged from his reverie. "You. You have to stop. Your magic is uncontrolled. You need to pull it back."

Draco shook his head absently. "I don't know what you're saying… Where's my wand?"

_Wand_. "Damn it," Harry swore, struggling to pull his wand out of his pocket. "Use mine. If you can't pull it in, push it out into me. Don't let it go free. There are people outside. You can't hurt them. Do you understand?"

Draco grasped the wand. The flames froze, as though incapacitated. "No, I don't," he murmured.

"You're doing it right now. Just keep doing what you're doing," Harry urged.

"I'm so tired. I'm tired of everything," Draco said, roving his eyes over Harry. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Concentrate, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"On what?"

"On your magic. On me. On _something_. Just don't lose control again."

The frozen flames grew smaller in size, extinguishing itself as it reached the floor. Harry felt the heat diminishing rapidly. He sagged as the tension fell off of him. "You're doing great," he said.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," Draco muttered. His arms wound around Harry's neck and he tried to meld into Harry. "I can't…"

"You can't what?"

"I can't pull it all in. It's too much. I feel like I'm going to explode."

Harry noticed that they still had half the room to clear. "Push it into me. I can take it," he said.

"I'll hurt you," Draco said, shaking his head.

"Since when do you have qualms about hurting me?" Harry asked sarcastically. Draco's grip tightened momentarily but he didn't respond. "Look, it's just lingering magic. I can hold it in. What else _can_ we do?"

"I don't know…"

"Exactly."

Draco sighed tiredly. "I just wish…"

Harry waited for more, but Draco was silent. "What do you wish?"

"Do it all over," Draco said. Harry felt the wand tip pressing against his back. A steady stream of warmth passed through him. His legs refused to hold him up. He fell to the ground as more magic poured into him. He felt Draco's grip slackening. The last of the flames dissipated. The cold breeze that flowed in from the open window replaced the heat. Harry's strength ebbed away. He vaguely heard the soft clatter of his wand dropping onto the tiles.

"Harry…"

He couldn't keep his eyes open. He was just too tired. "Hmm?" he asked.

Draco swayed and hit the tiles. He struggled to breathe. He needed Harry to hear this. "It was Dolohov."

"Okay," Harry mumbled, falling unconscious.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to stare at a very furious Ron and Neville. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again, they'd disappear. _No such luck_.

"Sorry," he said before they could start ranting.

"Damn right, you are," Ron all but growled. "When were you going to tell me about him?"

Harry shook his head. "Never…"

Ron raised his eyes up to the heavens. Harry didn't like the looks of that. Thankfully, Neville interrupted. "We don't have much time," he said, grabbing Harry's attention. "Even with the potions, it's escaping him. We need to know what happened."

"Dolohov," Harry said, grunting as he sat up. Everything spun around him. "Antonin Dolohov. We need to find him."

"No," Ron said. "_We_ don't need to do anything."

"Well, I do! I need to figure out what's happening to him," Harry insisted.

"Look, I don't _care_ if he saves the entire human race. You are _not_ risking your life for that scum," Ron exclaimed.

"He's different now, Ron. And he needs my help. You can't possibly expect me to turn my back on him," Harry argued.

"You already saved his life. You've saved his life three times! What more does he want from you?"

"He asked me to help him. And I'm going to do everything I can."

Ron swore colorfully, pushing the chair away as he stood up. "Even if it kills you?" he asked.

"It won't kill me, Ron. You're being dramatic," Harry muttered, looking at Neville for support. He didn't receive any. "After I find Dolohov, I'll know what he did to Draco. Then I can fix him. Then he can be on his way and I'll go about mine."

"_You_ are not going anywhere," Ron fumed. "How were you planning on finding Dolohov?"

"You're not my mother," Harry snubbed.

"Well, right now I bloody well am! And if you think I risked my life to just let you die because of this prick, you have another thing coming. How were you planning on finding Dolohov?"

"I wasn't. The Unmentionables could."

Ron looked at Neville with wide eyes. "You weren't kidding…"

"'Course I wasn't. Would have to be a lunatic to make this stuff up," Neville said begrudgingly.

"Hell and damnation," Ron muttered, glaring at Harry. "Fine. How do I find the Unmentionables?"

Harry blinked at Ron. "Huh?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"How do I find them?" Ron asked again, slower.

"I – I don't – _why_?"

Ron rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in surrender. "Bloody hell! You were the one going on and on about finding Dolohov and saving this bugger. So how do I find them?"

"You're going to help me?" Harry asked incredulously. "I am so confused…"

"Yes, Harry. I am going to help you. If helping you means seeing less of you in a hospital bed, then yes, I am going to help you. Okay?"

"R – right."


	6. Chapter 6

Harry closed the door to his home and sighed tiredly. He was just about to slip off his shoes when a slight rustle caused him to whip around and point his wand.

"Are you always this jumpy?" Brock asked, holding his hands up.

"Shit, Brock. Why do you keep breaking in?" Harry asked, holding his hand to his heart. "_How_ do you keep breaking in?"

"Always a challenge," he said with a grin, looking unusually jolly.

"What?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"We have Dolohov."

Harry froze. "Have him as in…"

"In custody. In the Ministry. We have the bastard!"

"Wh – Has – has he said anything?" Harry stammered.

"Not a word. We're waiting for the papers to come through so we can interrogate using Veritaserum."

"How long will that take?"

"A couple days," Brock said. "But we have him, Harry. He'll tell us what's wrong with Ryder, right?"

"I hope so…" Harry muttered vaguely.

"Also, that friend of yours, redhead. Threatened to hex my arse if I came to see you," Brock said in amusement.

Harry groaned. "Yeah. About him. Sorry," he said, blushing in mortification.

* * *

"Healer Harry Potter to circulation desk. Healer Potter to desk, stat."

Harry frowned, cocking his head as he listened. He turned back to his eleven-year-old patient and finished the sling with a flick of his wand. "There," he said, handing a slip of parchment to the mother. "No more Quidditch for the next week, okay?" The boy pouted dramatically while the mother smiled, rolling her eyes.

Harry grabbed his files and hurried out the room, leaving the mother to deal with her son's tantrum. "What's up?" he asked Susan, handing her the finished papers.

"This came in for you," she said, handing him a manila envelope. "Looks like test results. From the Ministry though."

Harry's heart jumped to his throat as he ripped the envelope open and dumped the papers on the desk. Susan grabbed a few from the top, scanning it as Harry read through the lab data. She whistled, her brows raised. "Whose is this?" she asked, glancing at Harry.

"One of my patients," he mumbled absently, his stomach sinking as he registered the increased level of toxins in Draco's blood because of kidney failure.

"In the Ministry?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm… Doesn't look like he'll last," she said sadly. His liver was acting up too, from the looks of it. Seemed like regeneration was not an option. There were mild signs of brain hemorrhage. There seemed to have been many instances of heart palpitations. "Whoa, his magic is off the charts!" she exclaimed, running her eyes over the graph. "What is this?" she breathed.

"He was deaged."

"Wow… How?"

Harry shook his head, feeling queasy as he placed the papers down on the desk. "I don't know. It's what we're trying to find out," he said.

"He doesn't remember?"

"No. He doesn't remember anything until… he – showed… up – Fuck!" Harry grabbed the test results and sprinted out of the clinic. He pushed past crowds of parents, running to the Apparition Point. He barely flashed his badge as he Apparated to the main building of St. Mungo's. He tripped down the stairs, his thoughts running overtime. He stumbled into the lab and didn't even bother apologizing as one of the technicians dropped his slide in fright. He pushed open the door to Neville's office.

"He was Obliviated," he panted, coughing in air. "It's why he can't remember. He was Obliviated."

Neville dragged Harry inside and closed the door. "What do you mean?" he asked, pushing Harry onto a chair.

"He remembers what happened a little before the attack. He can't remember the attack. He can't remember anything until the night at the hospital. Dolohov Obliviated him. I need you to look at his scans." Harry nearly threw the papers at Neville. "The brain scans. Can you find any signs? There's too much hemorrhaging. I can't tell."

Neville flicked through the sheets, stopping at the brain imaging. He shook his head absently. "I don't know. I can't tell either," he started saying before catching the words in his throat. "But if it was an incomplete Obliviation…"

"Damn it! Yes!" Harry said, standing up quickly and upending the chair. "That has to be it! Stopping Obliviation as it happens is – I mean, if often causes death! But he's not dead. Just deaged!"

"Which means that Malfoy was trying to stop the Obliviation, and then –"

"Dolohov couldn't get past fifth year."

"Instead of dying, Malfoy was –"

"Deaged to age five…"

"Holy shit!" Neville swore, staring at Harry incredulously. "What do we do? What can we do?" he asked, lunging for the door. Harry was close behind.

"Ministry. Dolohov is there."

* * *

The Unmentionables looked up from their coffees to find Harry doubled over and panting, one hand on the table and the other clutching the side with the stitch.

"Um…" Rainer said helpfully.

"Draco. I figured it out," Harry wheezed, sitting down shakily on the empty chair.

"Oh," Dune gasped. "What? What did you find out?"

"Okay," Harry said, breathing in deeply as he collected his thoughts. "I'll lay it out for you. See if it makes sense." The group nodded, fidgeting. "So, Draco hears about this sighting – Dolohov and Dementors. And he goes to… investigate, let's say. Runs into the Dementors first. Dolohov incapacitates him when he tries to fight the Dementors off. They Apparate to Newport. Maybe Dolohov was afraid he was being tracked.

"But _instead_ of killing Draco, Dolohov decides to Obliviate him. I'm thinking Draco put up a fight. So Dolohov used Sectumsempra. Maybe something sidetracked him, because that gave Draco time to write that note. Then Dolohov went on to Obliviate Draco. As in, erase _everything_. His entire life. He went from the most recent memory, backwards. He got as far as Draco at age five. Now, Draco doesn't have his wand, so I'm not quite sure how he did it. But he stopped Dolohov from taking any more of his memory – incomplete Obliviation. It's like the spell is stopped in its tracks, usually as it is still in the victim's body. As you can imagine, it causes imminent death because the magic is left unguided. In Draco's case, his body took in this magic and reverted to take form of the latest memory in his mind. His body deaged to stop from dying.

"And his memory is – it's still there! I mean, he recognized me! We just need to get the magic out of him. Set him right again. Let his body know that it doesn't need to stop itself from changing back." Harry stopped, hands trembling and throat drying up from talking.

The five men were set into motion instantaneously. One of them dragged Harry out of the chair and Disapparated without warning. Harry stumbled backwards and hit the wall as he became disoriented. Through the window in front of him, he found Dolohov sitting in the interrogation room. He realized that he was in the observation area with Dune and Brock. "What the hell?" he asked, taking a shaky step towards the glass. He jumped back when Tarver, Marty and Rainer burst into the interrogation room, murder in their eyes. "Wait, what are they –" Harry started asking before being cut off by his own strangled yelp when Dolohov was thrown off of his chair and pushed against the wall by Tarver's magic.

"You fucking son of a bitch. What did you do?" the man shouted in rage, his hand at Dolohov's throat.

"Oh my god, stop him!" Harry said in alarm, whipping around to face the stoic men behind him. "Stop him!"

"Fuck you," Dolohov spat out, glaring at Tarver with no fear. The Unmentionable let go and flung his wand to the side, causing the prisoner to fly off and hit the wall jarringly.

"Why aren't you stopping him?" Harry asked helplessly. "He's not allowed to do this!" Rainer trained his wand at Dolohov, causing the man to scream in agony. That was all Harry could handle. "Fuck this," he swore, pushing past the men to the closed door.

"Stay," Brock said gruffly, placing a restraining hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You guys are fucking crazy. No way am I letting this happen," Harry said, pushing Brock away.

"You are not going to interfere," Dune said, pointing his wand at Harry.

"What are you going to do? Hex me? I'd like to see you try," Harry said brashly, pulling out his own wand. "I will not stand for torture, do you hear me?"

"Even after what he did to Ryder?"

"Even then," Harry snarled, throwing the door open before either man could protest. The screams of agony could be heard in the empty corridor. He unlocked the door and pulled it open. "Stop," he shouted over the cries. The men staggered around in shock. "Stop it," he muttered, easily disarming Rainer. "You can interrogate him. You will not hurt him. Understand?" he asked, seething with anger.

"He hurt Ryder. That doesn't matter?" Tarver asked in disbelief.

"It doesn't mean you can do this to him. It's a bloody offense!"

"Not for us," Rainer said through gritted teeth, swiping his wand from Harry's hand.

"You can't be serious," Harry said, looking imploringly at the three men standing. "You'll torture him into giving you information?"

"If we have to, yes," Marty said softly.

Harry pushed down the urge to scream in rage again. "Just – let me talk to him, okay?" he said tiredly.

"No," Tarver said fiercely. "Not a chance."

"Just a minute. Please?" Harry begged. "I won't do anything. Just talk."

"We're staying right here," Marty said.

"Fine, stay here. I don't care. Just let me talk to him," Harry said, nodding quickly.

Marty glanced at his partners and jerked his head to indicate they pull back. After a tense moment, Tarver and Rainer took a few steps back, eyes still on Harry. Dolohov was now on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. Harry assessed the man's health, noting the unusually rapid heart rate and swollen muscles. He cast a quick charm, alleviating some of the pain as best as he could. The Death Eater glanced up at Harry when he felt the strength returning to him.

"Potter?" he wondered blearily.

"I have a few questions for you that you _will _answer," Harry said forcefully, kneeling next to the man with his wand pointed defensively.

"Why would I answer your questions?" Dolohov asked, his scowl returning full force.

"It's either me or them. I'd rather have me ask you. Wouldn't you?"

"I'd rather die," he growled, lunging at Harry. All it took was a quick restraining charm to stop the wild man.

"No, you wouldn't," Harry said calmly. Try as he might, Dolohov couldn't break out of the invisible restraints that held him immobile. "Did you Obliviate Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay, let's start with something easier. Where were you on January twenty-fifth, two years ago?"

Harry saw the flash of recognition in Dolohov's bloodshot near-black eyes. "I don't know," Dolohov said, his tone as calm as Harry's.

"If I said you murdered Narcissa Malfoy, what would you say?"

"That you're full of bull."

"If I said we have evidence that you killed Narcissa Malfoy?" Harry bluffed.

"I know you're lying, Potter. You were never good at it," Dolohov sneered.

"We'll just have to wait another day or two to ask you again. We'll get the evidence from your own lips then," Harry said threateningly. "Do you know what it's like to have no control over your mind? That's what Veritaserum does to you. Doesn't matter how good of a liar you are. I know you killed Narcissa Malfoy. I know you tried to kill Draco Malfoy. I need to know if you Obliviated him. It is that simple. Or would you rather I leave you for another hour with these gentlemen?"

Dolohov gaped at Harry's words.

"Yes or no. An answer and we leave you. No more pain," Harry muttered lowly.

"Why would I answer? I will be sent to Azkaban anyway," the Death Eater said derisively.

"We are talking about a choice between the Dementor's Kiss and a sentencing to Azkaban." Dolohov's grey pallor told Harry that he had struck a nerve. "What, you didn't seriously think that you wouldn't get the Kiss, did you? You murdered a woman in her own home."

"I don't have a choice then, do I?" the man said vaguely, looking through Harry.

Harry made a noise of frustration. "Fine. You don't have a choice. Would you rather spend the next day in pain? Now there's a choice you can make. Because either way we will get the same result, willingly or unwillingly," he said.

Dolohov remained tightlipped.

"Do you know you almost killed a child?" Harry asked quietly.

His eyes were brought back up to Harry.

"He lost nearly all of his blood. You could have caused brain damage. He could have _died_ because of what you did to him. Was that your plan? To kill him?"

"He wasn't a child…"

"He was when he was brought to me. Multiple lacerations, broken bones, head injury… Do you know what that does to a child?"

"He wasn't a child."

"Do you have any idea what those wounds could have done him? Maimed him. Disfigured him. A child."

"_He wasn't a child!_" Dolohov screamed. "I wouldn't do that to a child!"

"I don't even know what to believe anymore."

Dolohov shook his head, gripping his knees with his shaking hands. "He wasn't a child. I swear. I wouldn't do that to a child. I couldn't."

"So you ran?"

"Yes," he breathed, trembling as memory flooded back.

"After you tried to Obliviate him?"

"Yes."

Harry lurched to his feet and staggered back. "No more torture. I have what I need. I'm going to the hospital," he said quickly, rushing out of the room while hoping against hope that the Unmentionables heeded his words. He stopped halfway down the hall and swore inaudibly, backtracking to the interrogation room. Barging in, he found the same scene he had left a moment ago – three men staring at the fallen prisoner. "Tarver," Harry said, motioning for him to come out. Tarver blinked back to reality and forced himself to move, dazed. "The wand," Harry said urgently as soon as the door shut. "I need Draco's wand."

"I – it's not with me."

"Can you bring it? As soon as you can? To Draco's room? Okay. Thanks," and with that Harry sprinted to the end of the hall in search of an Apparition Point.

Five minutes later, he got past security to find Neville pacing the main foyer. "He was Obliviated," Harry said with a nod, motioning for Neville to follow him.

"I already talked to the doctors. We didn't want to try anything until you got here," Neville said.

"Talked to Dolohov. Draco was deaged after he tried to Obliviate him. He got scared and ran. Couldn't finish the spell," Harry said, pushing the elevator button over five times.

"We can't finish the spell, Harry."

"I know." If the spell were finished, all of Draco's memories would be wiped clean. Madness ensues at that point.

"So…"

"We have to find a way to get the memories out into his working mind. It's in his subconscious, but we need to make him aware of it."

"What then?"

Harry shrugged as the doors opened to let the men inside. "Hopefully that negates the botched Obliviation. Getting the spell out of him should make him older… Right?"

"I mean, sure, it works logically. But we're dealing with magic here. We could kill him in the process."

Harry slumped against the wall, massaging his temple. "He's dying anyway. His body can't handle this. We have to try something," he said weakly.

"Right, something," Neville muttered.

Harry kicked the wall with his heel and swore. "I can't believe this is happening! Hasn't he been through enough?" he said, closing his eyes to stop his wandering emotions.

"We'll do everything we can, Harry," Neville said comfortingly. They jolted to a halt on the fifth floor. Harry was met with the same scene as a week ago, only this time he was let through without any questions.

"Healer Potter, I'm Healer Paise," a woman said, stopping Harry in front of Draco's room. "I'm Ryder's physician."

"Before or after?" Harry asked.

She smiled wanly. "Both," she said.

"Oh… Okay," Harry said, faltering. "Has Neville –"

"Yes, he has. Is it true?" she asked.

"I just talked with the suspect. He confessed to it."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. What can we do?" she asked, glancing at the closed door.

"Is it safe to go in?" Harry asked.

She shook her blond head. "No. We had to fortify it. I mean, it's alright most of the time, but he is unconscious and heavily sedated. There are flares at times. It's hard to tell when…"

"How do you get in?" Neville asked.

"Shielding charms. Only, they don't last very long. It can withstand a few bursts, but that's it. Once you're in one of the bursts, you might not be able to recast a Shielding charm. His magic is stronger than ours," she said nervously.

"What do you mean, bursts?"

"It's mostly ignition. Sometimes, you're just thrown back by an expanding barrier. Other times, everything shakes. But mostly fire."

"If I try to wake him up?" Harry asked, although he knew the answer.

"I wouldn't advice it," she said ominously.

The three stared at each other for a few moments, trying not to think of the worst-case scenario. "Legilimency. We can get his memories out that way," Neville said.

"Yeah," Harry said faintly, thinking of his awful experiences with that spell.

"We could try dislodging his mind," Healer Paise said. "String his memories together and push it into another part of his brain. See if he can process it."

"Let's try that first," Harry said quickly. He pulled out his wand to cast a couple shielding charms on himself when Neville stopped him.

"Oh, no way are you going in there," the man said.

"Why not?" Harry asked, trying to wrench his hand away.

"Because Ron will kill me!"

"Oh, to hell with Ron. Nothing's going to happen to me. I'll come out in a couple minutes, I swear," Harry said dismissively, managing to get out of Neville's grip.

"You'd rather have me be killed by Ron?" Neville asked sarcastically.

"Rather you than me," Harry mumbled, finishing up his charms. "Okay, two minutes." With that, he opened the door and stepped in quickly, shutting it softly behind him.

The chaos from the outside was transformed into sterile silence inside. The fire-damaged room was transformed into its original form. Draco was curled to one side, clutching his stomach while a frown graced his face. Bags of IV fluid and medication floated above him, attached to both his arms. His pale hair hung limp around his face. His mouth was drawn into a grim line and his eyes fluttered under his lids. Harry noticed the dark circles as he moved in closer. In fact, he found bruises all over Draco – his face, neck, and arms.

He wrenched his eyes away from the discoloration and focused in on the task at hand. He placed his wand to Draco's temple and started to pull out anything he could. The problem with randomly pulling out memories was just that – it was random. Harry had no idea what thoughts were in the strand of silver that was now attached to his wand. He hoped it was something that was valuable for Draco's recovery. When he got six inches of shimmering memory attached to his wand and Draco's head, he forced it back in. Draco's frown grew fiercer as he whimpered. But Harry couldn't stop until all of the silver was back in Draco's mind. He tried to do this quickly, hoping the discomfort didn't last.

He guessed wrong.

Draco let out a loud wail of pain, causing Harry to jerk back. He rapidly finished inserting rest of the memory into Draco. The boy kept screaming in agony and grappling his head, trying to scratch the memory out of him.

"Fuck," Harry swore, pointing his wand at Draco and entering his mind using Legilimency. He was transported to a garbled mass of color, sounds, smells, and thoughts. Draco wasn't able to process any of this. Harry pulled away from Draco's mind and drew out another strand of memory from the boy's head. As he forced it back in like the last one, the agonized crying changed to angered shouting. Harry felt the shield being hammered continuously as waves of magic rippled out of the sleeping boy. He wouldn't break the connection until Draco took in all of the memory. Once the memory was in Draco's working mind, Harry used Legilimency again to see if anything coherent was taking shape. He was once again met with a troubled mix of abstract thoughts.

He felt the last of his defense cracking and he extracted himself from Draco's mind. He flung the door open and ran out, pushing it shut against the magic. He panted slightly and shook his head at the expectant Healers and Apprentices. "I can get some sort of memory out, but it's not sticking. He doesn't know what to do with it. He's also in pain when I do it to him. Like his mind is rejecting the memory," Harry explained.

"What if his mind is not the problem," one of the Apprentices said. "Maybe his memories are the problem. Maybe he can't process the memory because the memory is corrupted."

Harry ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "But we can't – oh… Wait… I'll use _my_ memory," he said, staring at his wand incredulously. "If his memory is corrupt, he could use my memories of him, right?"

"Um… Sure?" Healer Paise said uncertainly.

"Potter!" Tarver shouted from across the hall.

"Oh, you're here! Good!" Harry said, motioning for the Apprentices to let the man through. Tarver looked bewildered at the amount of people congregated around Draco's room.

"Is he alright?" he asked with sudden trepidation.

"We'll see," Harry murmured, taking Draco's wand from Tarver's hand. After quickly casting more shielding charms on himself, he entered the room again. The waves of magic had not ebbed off. His shield was pummeled with the force. Before the first layer could break, Harry shoved Draco's wand into the limp hand. Almost instantaneously, the magic was switched off. The boy tightened his grip on the wand instinctually. Harry filtered through his memories of Draco, idly wondering which one to choose. He supposed his first memory was a start. Thinking about his first visit to Madam Malkin's, he pulled the very short strand out of his temple. After a moment's hesitation, he fed it into Draco's mind.

This time, instead of furious shouting, a flicker of confusion ran through Draco's face. Harry wondered if it had worked. He used Legilimency to get inside Draco's mind. He found himself in a dark room. He heard sluggish voices and saw dulled colors. Snippets about Hogwarts and Quidditch filtered through. It was working. Harry pulled out and sifted through more of his memories, landing on the day Draco 'nearly died' at the hands of Buckbeak. With a soft smile, Harry pulled out the memory and fed it into Draco. This time the boy's face pulled into an expression of distaste and fear. Harry decided that he could probably start stringing the memories together now. He tried to fit in all of fifth year into one long shimmering memory. It took several minutes to pull it out of his mind and fit it into Draco's. The boy's face remained impassive for the most part, sometimes flinching and at other times softening. Harry noticed the couch and chair trembling slightly. He decided that it was probably time to leave.

With a parting glance, he stepped out of the room with a triumphant smile on his face. "It worked?" Neville asked in amazement.

"Yeah. I think so. I mean, he's not screaming anymore," Harry said. "That's a start, right?"

"Okay… So far, so good. Now what?" Healer Paise asked.

"Now, we give him his most recent memory," Harry said, looking at Tarver.

Tarver stepped back in confusion. "Whoa, I have _no _idea what's happening here," he said, raising his hands.

"I just need your memory," Harry said innocently. "Something with Draco in it."

"L – like what?"

"I don't know, whatever happened the last week you saw him," Harry said with a shrug.

"All of it?"

"Yeah, as much as you can fit in."

Tarver swallowed nervously. "Um… Did you want to – did you want me to go inside?" he asked.

"Oh, you don't have to," Harry said, shaking his head. "I can take it. Do you have it?"

"Yeah, I should," Tarver murmured, nodding at Harry.

"Ready?"

"Sure?"

Harry smiled as he touched his wand to Tarver's temple. "A slight pinch," he said as he pulled the string of memory out. "Good," Harry said encouragingly, extracting the silver string. It kept on going. And going. "How long is this?" Harry asked.

"Um… I figured I'd give you as much as I can…" Tarver said hesitantly.

"Oh… Okay," Harry said. It was another five minutes before the strand broke from Tarver's mind. The coil of memory was wound around Harry's wand, causing it to glow blue.

"Good?"

Harry laughed in disbelief. "Great," he said, shaking his head at Tarver. "Here goes." With a deep breath, Harry reentered the room, pulling the door shut with his foot. He sat at Draco's bedside and gently eased Tarver's memory into Draco, hoping it will be the final time he'd have to do this. An intense look of concentration transformed Draco's features. Harry wondered what kind of memories these were. He hoped Draco would be able to fill the gaps with his own memory. The strand was pushed in an inch at a time, as though Draco's mind was drinking in the information.

A few minutes later, Harry noticed the inch at a time had increased to three. The wild set of emotions played on Draco's face – worry, sadness, anger, surprise, joy, and uncertainty. Harry knew Draco comprehended it all, piecing it all together.

He nearly jumped back when the boy's eyes shot open and his hands came up to grip Harry's wrist firmly. He wasn't seeing Harry, though. He was seeing his life. He was holding onto Harry as though his life depended on it. He was forcing the memories inside him, taking in all he could and wanting so much more. Harry hadn't noticed the room trembling until a sudden crash sounded. The couch was knocked against the wall, crushed into shreds. The chair was next, flying at the window. Thankfully, the glass had been fortified as well. So the chair merely splintered.

Harry realized that Draco wasn't holding his wand any longer.

"Damn it," he swore, trying to pry Draco's fingers from his wrist. "Let go, Draco," he said urgently. Draco shook his head stubbornly, nearly crushing Harry's wrist as he increased the force of his grip. "You have to hold your wand," Harry pleaded. A whirlwind was surrounding them now, whipping pieces of wood around them. Draco seemed adamant at keeping a hold on Harry. As his first shield fell apart, Harry knew he wasn't going to be able to hold the second one up for too long. The memory was almost over. Just a few more feet and it would be done. Just a few more seconds…

Draco gasped for air as the magic was forced out of him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as the last few inches of memory embedded itself in his mind. His grip slacked as he fainted away, letting the magic take its course. Harry quickly placed Draco's wand into the small hand and closed the fist.

"I have to go now, okay?" he said softly, brushing away Draco's tears before moving away. He swallowed down his fear and pushed past the flying splinters with his wand. He could think of nothing else to do. Draco had his memories back, some of it at least. Harry hoped Draco's mind was well enough to understand what to do with the memories.

"Harry?"

He turned around at the weak sound. Draco was sitting up on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"You said you wouldn't leave."

Harry felt his battered shield shuddering around him. He also felt Draco's pained gaze on him.

"Don't leave me."

"Damn it," Harry muttered brokenly, rushing to the scared boy. "I'm not – I'm not leaving, Draco," he said, cradling Draco.

"Everything hurts," he sobbed, clutching at Harry helplessly. "Make it stop."

"I'm trying. I'm trying so hard," Harry said, wrapping strong arms around the shivering boy.

"Where's Mummy?"

"She's not here right now."

"Why isn't she ever here? Why can't I see her?" Draco cried.

"I'm so sorry. I wish you understood," Harry said.

"Help me…"

"I _am_. I am helping you."

With a strangled breath, Draco went limp in Harry's arms. With a thud, the remnants of broken furniture clattered to the ground. Harry's heart plunged. "Draco?" he asked, laying the boy in bed. He tried casting a Shielding spell on himself and found it quite easy to do so. "Draco?" he said frantically. There was still a faint pulse, but the boy had lost what little color he had. "Wake up," Harry said, patting a cold cheek. "You need to wake up now."

Draco gasped and arched his back in pain. Harry looked on in horror as slashes of red seeped through the cotton hospital gown. He nearly ripped the gown off, staving his nausea when he found the cuts that he had healed no less than three weeks ago reemerge. Before he could reseal it, the boy started to morph. Harry watched helplessly as Draco writhed in bed, unable to scream, as his body grew impossibly fast. Everything was changing at the same time. The small hand that was gripping the wand was changing into strong, slender fingers clenched into a fist. The bloodied torso was changing into broad shoulders. The thrashing legs were changing into long limbs. The soft face was changing into strikingly familiar features – straight nose, aristocratic lips and tapered chin. The only thing that remained unchanging was the blood and his eyes.

With a shuddering moan, Draco fell back onto the bed, heaving in pain. It put Harry into action. He flicked his wand at the door, shooting it open. "I need type O negative, dittany, and codeine, stat," he shouted, rushing towards Draco. He chanted _Vulnera Sanentur_ thrice, effectively closing and sealing the lacerations. The Mediwizards flocked around the room as Draco slipped in and out of consciousness. The room was soon filled with loud chatter and excited murmurs. Once the antibiotic and painkillers were pumping into Draco, Harry nearly slumped to his knees in exhaustion. He held himself up against the bed, breathing heavily.

"Harry, you did great," Neville said, thumping his friend on the back proudly. "More than great! You did terrifically!"

"Thanks," Harry sighed. "He gave me a fright though."

"But he's alive, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Thank goodness for that," Harry murmured, smiling weakly at Neville. "I really need some water," he added. "I don't think I can –"

"I'll get it," Neville said, conjuring a mug filled with cold water. "The least I could do," he said, handing the mug over.

Harry grinned before gulping down the water. It refreshed him, letting him comprehend the enormity of what had just happened. Draco was alive. "I'm getting claustrophic," he mumbled, trying to still his racing heart.

"Yeah. Me too," Neville answered. "We'll wait outside."

"Mhm…" Harry murmured absently, turning to leave.

A strong grip on his wrist stopped him. He turned around in alarm, only to find himself facing Draco's alert eyes. He noticed the room grow silent. Draco shook his head, tugging Harry back. _Don't leave me…_ Harry smiled tiredly, then glanced at Neville. "Actually, I think I'll stay," he said, shrugging apologetically. Neville looked at Draco in disbelief. "You go ahead," Harry said. Neville nodded vaguely before stumbling out of the room. Harry sat beside Draco and pried the fingers from his wrist. Draco's eyes went wide with trepidation. "I'm no leaving, Draco," Harry said softly. Draco looked uncertain as his fingers felt for Harry's hand again. Their fingers entwined, Draco holding on tightly. "I'll be here," Harry murmured, enveloping Draco's hand.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Sorry for deleting the last two chapters! I suppose **YukiAme**'s review pushed me into overdrive. Anyways, here's some angst for you. Hearts all around!

* * *

Draco wouldn't keep his eyes off of Harry no matter how often Harry blushed or tried to talk to him. Even as the room started to empty of medical personnel, Draco held onto Harry, never speaking but always searching. Even when it got awkward with Tarver thanking Harry profusely, Draco held onto Harry. Even when they were alone in the room, Draco held on.

"Alright, Draco?" Harry asked, not really expecting an answer, but trying nonetheless.

"Malfoy."

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

"Why are you calling me Draco?"

Harry couldn't help the brilliant grin. "It's your name, isn't it?"

"You never call me Draco…"

"Well, I'll start calling you Malfoy again," Harry muttered.

Draco's lips twitched up for a second. "Yeah. You do that," he said.

"How are you feeling? In any pain?" Harry asked, gently untangling his fingers from Draco's.

"No," Draco said simply, letting go of Harry's hand and sitting up. "Just really tired."

"You still have some Sleeping draught in you. You'll get over it in a day or two," Harry explained, standing up and stretching. "Which means you should get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow," he said with a satisfied smile. _I could definitely use some_, he thought sardonically as he saw his inviting bed in his mind's eye.

"Harry?"

Harry stopped near the door. "Potter."

"Hmm?"

"Why are you calling me Harry?" he asked, turning to Draco.

Draco smiled slowly. "Right. Potter," he said. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

"He's all better!" Harry said with a grin as Ron opened the door. He earned a smack on the head for that comment. "Ow! What?"

"I thought I told you not to talk to them!" Ron steamed, letting his friend into the house.

"Yeah, but I saved him. That doesn't count?" Harry asked.

"No. It doesn't."

"Also, can't believe you threatened them. Brock, of all people! Gryffindor courage all the way," Harry beamed, raising a fist.

"Prat," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.

They found themselves in the kitchen a few minutes later, waiting for the food to finish cooking. Harry had never felt this free of responsibilities. He couldn't stop grinning or talking about what had happened.

"Fine, fine," Ron said, waving his hand dismissively. "Tell me how he ended up an Unmentionable." Harry snapped his mouth shut, looking pensive. Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure you talk about how you saved his sorry arse and you tell me _why_?"

"I saved his sorry arse because I couldn't very well have let him die," Harry said incredulously. "I mean, he's getting rid of the Dark army _every single day._ That's something else, isn't it?"

"But _why_ is he doing that?"

"Because he wants to," Harry said with a shrug.

"Which makes me wonder if that really is Malfoy," Ron murmured. "What happens now, then?"

Harry shook his head. "No clue. He goes back. Life is back to normal."

"That easy, huh?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

* * *

"You awake?" Harry asked softly, poking his head into Draco's room.

"Yeah," Draco said, sighing.

Harry didn't know what to make of the sigh. "Um… Mind if I come in?" he asked hesitantly.

"Fine," Draco murmured.

_Bad mood…_ Harry decided to get out of there as fast as possible. "Just thought I'd bring you some… tart," he said awkwardly, holding up the plate for Draco to see.

"Tart?" Draco asked, tilting his head.

"Treacle."

"Oh… Thanks," he said, blinking at Harry.

"If you don't want it, I'll have it," Harry said, placing the plate on the bed table.

"No, it's fine. I like tart," Draco said vaguely.

Harry placed his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do. "Got some sleep yesterday?" he asked.

"Yeah. Somewhat."

"Good."

Silence followed for a few moments, in which Draco stared at Harry and Harry looked out the window. Suddenly, Draco shook his head to wake himself up from his trance. "Do you want to sit down?" he asked, motioning for the chair.

Harry flicked his eyes at Draco. "I– um… That's alright," he said. "I should be going now."

"Right. You should."

"I'll come by… later?" he asked.

"Yeah. Later."

Harry nodded. "Bye."

"Bye."

* * *

Harry walked into Neville's office, looking mighty thoughtful. "What now?" Neville asked in resignation.

"I just had _the most_ _awkward_ conversation with Malfoy," he said distantly. "Like, you won't believe how awkward it was."

"Why? What did you say?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was… surreal," Harry said, staring off into space.

"Um… What did you want to say?"

Harry looked away and frowned in thought. "I'm not sure. I thought he'd be– sarcastic or rude. Or maybe he'd be happy or amicable. But it was like… we didn't know each other."

Neville watched Harry as the latter spoke. "You don't know each other, Harry," he said sensibly. "He's changed. He's not the same person from Hogwarts."

Harry looked at Neville, running the words over in his mind. Then he nodded. "Of course, of course. I don't– yeah, that makes sense. I just thought… Never mind."

"Yeah. Never mind," Neville muttered, eyeing Harry.

* * *

This time Harry was prepared for the appearance of the five men in his drawing room. In fact, he had been expecting a visit for the past three days. He peeked around the corner with his wand out and got an eyeful of the Unmentionables scattered around the room. "Don't you guys knock?" he asked, scowling and stowing his wand away. The men grinned, their spirits the highest Harry had seen thus far. "What's up?" he asked.

"We just wanted to thank you for… everything. Everything you've done for us and for Ryder," Marty said.

"Just doing my job," Harry said, blushing.

"Right. And more," Dune said. "We owe you one."

"Or a dozen," Brock added.

"Next time, just knock," Harry said with a smile. The men chuckled quietly. Harry realized that it was the first time he had seen all of them wearing similar grins.

"He's being discharged tonight. Has a shit audit waiting for him. Teach him to lie to us," Tarver said.

"Did he… um– tell you what happened?" Harry asked hesitantly.

They shook their heads. "No. I don't think he's quite up for that yet. We'll see how it goes at the debriefing," Tarver explained.

"Well, don't force it out of him. He didn't really seem like himself when I visited him today," Harry said with a sad smile.

"Yeah. Too quiet," Marty noted.

"Anyways, we just came here to tell you that we'll be out of your hair now. Unless you _really_ want a visit," Brock said with a wink.

"I don't think I can handle one of your visits for another year," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Well, then," Marty said, walking up to Harry, "we'll see you a year later." He held out his hand.

"Deal," Harry grinned, shaking his hand.

* * *

"So, you're leaving, huh?" Harry said, walking into Draco's room.

"Sick of this place," Draco said with a small smile.

"I would be too."

Draco pushed on his shoes without looking at Harry. They let the silence grow as it had earlier, unable to fill it with any sensible words. Draco grabbed his jacket and stood at full length. For Harry, it was strange seeing Draco all 'grown up'. He pushed the thought away, focusing on the present.

"I guess this is it," Draco said with a shrug.

"Yeah. Still can't believe you're alive…"

"It's quite hard to off me, Potter. You of all people should know that," Draco smirked.

"Hmm," Harry murmured.

Harry couldn't be sure who made the first move. He'd like to think it was Draco. But the next instant, he was hugging the man gently. Draco's arms wound around Harry's back, hands resting lightly on his chest. Harry felt fingers running up and down his left side. "Hope that heals soon," Draco whispered.

"Thanks," Harry murmured.

They let go at the same time. Draco shrugged on his jacket. "Thanks, Potter. For everything."

"Try not to get yourself almost killed again," Harry responded lightly.

"Not part of the job description."

And just like that, Draco Malfoy was gone.

* * *

Harry was right. Everything just fell back into place. Their lives went back to normal. Harry was back in the hospital, doing his rounds. Neville was done with sprinting for the rest of his life, going back into hiding in his lab. Draco conveniently disappeared, Ryder taking form. Ron finally stopped harassing Harry about his inability to follow clear instructions. After a sincere thank you, the Ministry left Harry alone. The deaging incident was a distant thought in everyone's mind.

Except for Harry's.

But Harry's mind has always been like that. He finds it hard to let go of thoughts ones they have embedded into his mind. He couldn't help wondering if he would ever learn the full story of what had happened to Draco. He also couldn't help wondering if he would ever see Draco again. _Probably not. He's dead, isn't he_? Harry thought derisively as he tossed and turned at night. He wouldn't mind hearing from Ryder either. _Just to make sure he's alright…_

"Snap the fuck out of it," Tarver hissed through gritted teeth as Ryder's wand faltered for the fifth time during their exercise.

"Damn it," Ryder swore, flinging his wand to the ground. Collective groans sounded around the darkened room before lights flickered back on. The Unmentionables were crabby and not in the mood for shenanigans at that point. They had been at it for hours now. It didn't help that every time they tried to move on with their simulations, Ryder wasn't concentrating.

"Stop zoning out!" Brock exclaimed. "I'm seriously sick of this!"

"Alright, alright, calm down," Rainer interrupted, holding his hands up. "It's fine. Let's take a break, okay?"

"Whatever," Tarver muttered angrily, storming out of the room. Brock and Dune were quick to follow, too incensed to even bother glaring at Ryder. Rainer shrugged with a nervous smile before leaving.

"Wait, Marty," Ryder murmured, stopping the quiet man with a soft touch to his arm.

"Hmm?"

Ryder waited until the door had closed with a soft thud. "I… I'm sorry," he said, averting his eyes. "For everything."

"I never expected an apology," Marty said. "Let's go."

"No." Ryder stopped him again. "That's not… I know that I misplaced your trust in me and I am sorry for that," he explained.

"And, as I've already said, I never expected an apology," Marty repeated slowly. "It's not your-"

"It _is_, damn it!" Ryder growled in exasperation. "It _is_ my fault and why the hell am I still here?"

Marty narrowed his eyes as he took in Ryder's frustrated expression. "Would you… _like_ to be kicked out?" he asked.

"Yes."

Brows arched and looking utterly unimpressed, Marty stared at Ryder. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes," Ryder lied. "It's what I deserve."

"Too bad," Marty said without skipping a beat. He whipped around and stormed out the room.

When they returned, Ryder was gone.

* * *

"I can't do it," the small girl cried, clutching her messy hair with her hands. "It's all Dan's fault!"

Harry smiled helplessly while the nurse threw her hands up in surrender and returned to the playroom. The doctor had just been passing by when the five year old stopped him with a loud wail and teary face. The nurse who had been chasing after her seemed to have better things to do, like stopping the hyperactive boys from mauling each other at the toys area. That left Harry to deal with the Mary's complaints. "Is this anything to be crying about?" he asked sagely.

"Yes!" she insisted, showing him her hair. "Mummy did it so prettily and now I look _ugly_!"

Harry tsked sympathetically as he gently pulled Mary's hands away from her head. "That wasn't very nice of Danny, was it?" he murmured. "Shall I do it up prettily again?"

"Mhm," Mary sobbed. "As pretty as you can."

"Okay," Harry smiled. "Then will you stop crying?"

"Mhm."

Harry started braiding her soft hair between his fingers, taking care not to hurt her. He had enough experience with children since being around the Weasleys meant that this was a much-needed skill. "Did you have a ribbon to go with this?" he asked.

"No," Mary started wailing again. "Dan took it!"

"Okay, okay. That's okay," Harry said quickly, trying to save himself from having another meltdown in his hands. "I'll make one for you."

"What?" Mary hiccupped, blinking her wide brown eyes in wonder. "How?"

"Magic."

"Wow," Mary sniffed. "Okay."

Harry congratulated himself heartily on having averted a potential disaster. "How's your stomach, then, love?" he asked.

"It's fine," Mary mumbled, patting her tummy with her hand. "The medicine makes me sleepy, so it doesn't hurt."

"That's the plan," Harry grinned. "Now, I want you to hold onto this with your hand, alright?"

"Mhm." Mary clenched the end of her braid with a furious grip.

Harry pulled out his wand and winked at Mary. "What color?"

"Pink?" Mary asked hopefully.

"Whatever color you want," Harry said, conjuring a twirling ribbon out the end of his wand. Mary laughed in wonder. "And here we are." Harry tied her hair with the ribbon and placed a small charm on it so that it wouldn't come undone for another few hours. "Now Danny won't do _anything_ to your hair. I've put a little spell on it, just for you."

"Thank you," Mary smiled, hugging Harry quickly. "I'm going back now!" She ran inside, no doubt to go back to taunting Dan with her brand new hairdo. With a tired groan, Harry got up off the floor and stretched.

His eyes caught the unblinking gaze of the man seated in one of the many chairs that stood along the corridor. He smiled half-heartedly, feeling uneasy when it wasn't reciprocated. He quickly shifted his eyes away and hurried towards his next patient's room.

Ryder watched Harry disappear around the corner before letting out the breath he had been holding. He wasn't recognized, which was good. He just wanted to disappear for a bit. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees while dropping his face in his hands. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her terrified expression and heard her strangled gasp. But at least then he could remember what she had looked and sounded like.

Being amidst loud laughter and squeals was oddly liberating for him. It felt so familiar and safe. Thinking back, it had felt amazing to experience everything for the 'first' time – the people, magic, color and sights… And it had felt incredible having fewer burdens weigh him down.

Three hours later, the man still sat as he was. Harry was getting apprehensive by then. He had walked by more than five times and seen no change in the man. A few deep breaths and gathered courage later, Harry walked up to Ryder and tapped his shoulder twice.

Ryder looked up with a blank expression.

"Visiting hours are over. You should go home," Harry murmured. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Ryder answered mechanically, getting up and walking away without a backward glance.

Harry huffed in indignation before returning to his rounds. He hated having random people lurk about for no apparent reason.

The moment Ryder set foot in his studio apartment, his door burst open to reveal a very angry Brock. "What the hell?" he snarled, grabbing Ryder by the shirt. "Where were you?"

"Out," Ryder snapped, pushing Brock away. "Leave."

Brock scoffed in derision. "Like hell! We saved your sorry arse and _this_ is how you repay us?" he asked. "Unbelievable!"

"I never asked you to _save_ me," Ryder spat out.

"You can't be fucking serious! YOU OWE US!"

"GET OUT!"

A sharp left hook later, Ryder was on the floor and Brock was shaking his fist with a pained wince. "Fuck you," he muttered, stalking out of door and making sure to slam it shut. Ryder curled into a ball as agony rippled from his head to the rest of him.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry groaned in defeat when he found the same man seated in the same chair and holding the same position as eight hours ago. He contemplated kicking him out, but couldn't come up with a good enough reason as to why.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked instead, making sure his voice sounded authoritative.

"No," Ryder murmured, not bothering to look up when he heard the familiar voice.

"Would you mind me asking what you are doing here?" Harry continued more aggressively.

"Yes, I mind."

Harry scowled in dismay. No one was supposed to say that to him. "If you have no business here, then I must ask you to leave," he said curtly.

"Why?"

Harry clicked his tongue in frustration. "Then could you mope in the cafeteria or the library?" he asked with a harsh tone.

Ryder couldn't help his sordid smile. Moping… "Hmm," he mumbled, getting up.

Harry's brows shot up when he noticed the black eye and slight swaying stance. "Wait, are you hurt?" he asked, stopping Ryder from moving.

"It's nothing." Ryder shook his head. "I'll go mope somewhere else." He pulled out of Harry's grip with ease, walking towards the stairs. Library would be nice, he supposed.

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets as sudden restlessness set in. This didn't feel right at all.

* * *

"Sit," Tarver demanded, pulling out the chair and forcing Ryder onto it.

"What?" Ryder sighed.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing. I'm fine."

Tarver rolled his eyes in response. "Was it something we did? You know we're just worried about you, right?" he said.

"I know," Ryder mumbled. They were always looking out for him.

"Then what?"

"I don't trust myself, alright?" Ryder blurted out before he could rein himself in. His teeth snapped shut and he exhaled forcefully.

"Why?" Tarver asked in disbelief. "We trust you."

"Don't!" Ryder exclaimed. "Why would you still trust me?"

"Because I know it was a mistake and-"

"IT WASN'T A MISTAKE!" Ryder shouted, slamming his palms against the table with enough force to startle Tarver. "I'd do it ten times over if I had the chance, got it?"

"Wh-what?" Tarver stammered.

"I'm done," Ryder muttered, pushing off of the chair. "Don't expect me tomorrow."

"Ryder!"

* * *

Ryder glanced up from his books to find Harry take the seat opposite him. They blinked at each other for a long moment. They were in the quiet library after sundown. Mediwizards and patients moved about them, minding their own business with books and parchments tucked under their hand.

"I know you, right?" Harry asked after a fashion of time.

"No," Ryder answered before returning to his reading.

"That was just an opening."

Ryder felt the corners of his mouth quivering when he heard the blatant truth. "Oh, I see," he murmured, flipping the page.

"Why do you keep coming here?" Harry asked. "You do know this is a children's hospital, don't you?"

"I can read," Ryder murmured.

"Are you visiting a patient?"

"Yes."

"No, you aren't," Harry countered. "All you do is walk about or sit up here to read. There are regular libraries for that."

"Are you kicking me out?" Ryder asked, finally looking up at Harry.

"Yes," Harry said with an affected sniff. Ryder's eyes flicked up towards the hidden scar under messy black hair. Harry looked up as well, his eyes rolling up and brows bunching together. "See, I'm Harry Potter and all," he added, pulling his hair away from his forehead. "So you have to do what I say."

A tired chuckle escaped Ryder. "Right, you are," he said, pulling his eyes back to the book.

"What are you reading?" Harry asked, dragging the book away from Ryder and turning it around.

"Personal," Ryder answered, pulling the book back to him.

"Depression?" Harry frowned. "Why are you reading about that?"

"None of your business."

"Are you depressed?"

"No."

Harry's eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "That's what a depressed patient would say," he muttered.

"That's also what a normal person would say," Ryder retorted.

"Yeah, but still…" Harry muttered.

Before the challenging conversation could get anywhere, however, Ginny planted herself behind Harry with her hands on her hips and a sour expression on her face. Ryder's eyes were drawn up to her, which was all the prompting Harry needed. "Crap," he groaned, dropping his head against the table.

"You have some nerve," Ginny scorned, swatting Harry's arm. "I went to all that trouble and you don't even bother showing up?"

"I fell asleep," Harry said, his words muffled as he cowered under his hands. "I already told Ron!"

"Did I ever conveniently fall asleep at _my_ surprise birthday parties?" Ginny asked while jerking Harry upright by the collar of his shirt.

"It was _really_ sweet of you," Harry said with an angelic smile. "You are the _best_ friend an-"

"Shut up," Ginny hissed. Then she turned her glare at Ryder. "What are _you_ smiling at?"

"This is _far_ too entertaining. Go on," Ryder remarked, waving at the two to continue.

Now Ginny turned her huffiness towards this man. "Enjoying the show, are we?" she scowled.

"Leave him alone," Harry mumbled. "And go away. You're embarrassing me."

"_I'm _embarrassing _you_? Argh!" She stomped away while wrenching her hair in frustration.

"I don't believe it's in your best interests to fight with your girlfriend," Ryder noted sagely.

"She's not my girlfriend," Harry grumbled. "And you go away too."

Ryder watched Harry shoot up on his feet and walk away with his head held up high, amusement growing in him. He glanced down at the parchment Harry hadn't seen. It was a letter from the Minister. Ryder could recite the passage word for word; he had been staring at it for hours now. It was a confirmation of his resignation.

But when an Unmentionable resigned, the process was arduous and expensive. Relocation was a requirement, as was sworn secrecy and Obliviation to protect information. That was what terrified Ryder. He was going to be given a new identity, from birth to death. It'll be like he never existed. He stared at the words that were swimming before his eyes – painless and Ministry-approved procedure. Wherever he was relocated to, his predicament would be the same.

His eyes skipped over to the book he had been reading. Depression. His mother had been depressed… It pained him to think of her suffering in silence and isolation. He had been observing her for years.

If only he hadn't given in to the urge to go see her.

His encounter with Dolohov were scenes out of any person's personal nightmare, filled with torture of all kinds. But that agony hadn't mattered. All Draco had wanted to do was kill the man who had murdered his mother.

Not Draco.

Ryder.

He held in his exasperated breath. He was already struggling with one identity crisis. How was he supposed to harbor another secret?

If his memories were changed, he would lose everything. He would never remember his years with the Unmentionables. He would never remember his mother's death. He would never remember his role in the Second War. He would never remember the pain he had felt.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, he reckoned.

_Thanks for calling me Harry…_

Ryder winced in defeat, shaking the words out of his head. That was another thing he could get rid of once the resignation procedure was complete – Potter's damned voice. It was stuck in his head, always fresh and unnerving. He hated owing people favors. It was one reason he agreed to join Unmentionables. The debt was hanging over his head and it was taken away by a simple enrollment. And now Potter had saved his life, which meant he owed a damned favor to that man. It irked Ryder to think that. He was supposed to remain unattached, wasn't he? That was his job description. He wasn't supposed to exist.

He took the stairs by twos and threes, throwing the door to the third floor open. It was nearly empty since it was past curfew for the children. This was such an eerily familiar place to him now.

Harry was scanning the images with a critical eye, staring at the alit scans that was projected on the wall of his office. He heard the door burst open without warning. "Ever heard of knocking, Penny?" he asked without much bite to his words. "Check out these scans. So weird…"

Ryder whipped Harry around. Against the dimly lit room, he could barely make out Harry's bewildered expression. Without a word passing between them, he shoved the Minister's letter into Harry's hand.

Harry tried his darnedest to read the words despite his unfocused eyes. He started catching words like 'resignation', 'confidentiality' and 'side effects'. "What?" he murmured, bringing the paper up closer to his eyes and squinting at it.

'Unmentionable'.

He gasped theatrically and snapped his head up at Ryder. "Wh-who?" he stammered, roving his eyes over the unfamiliar face. "Malfoy?" he squeaked.

Ryder shrugged.

Harry looked down at the letter, reading some more before having to look up at Ryder to make sure he wasn't going crazy. "Ryder?" he asked, leaning in to examine the man.

"So?"

Harry frowned in confusion. "You're Ryder, aren't you?" he asked, just to make sure.

"Yes."

"What are you doing here?"

"What should I do?"

"Huh?" Harry gawked.

"What should I do, Harry?"

"Are you mad?" Harry asked. For one thing, he was sure this was a bizarre dream. Secondly, what was this man talking about?

"Maybe," Ryder murmured.

"I don't understand." Harry shook his head abruptly. "You shouldn't be here. Remember?"

"I'm not supposed to have any ties to the outside world."

"Right," Harry said enthusiastically while nodding. This wasn't a position he was comfortable with. "Don't drag me into this."

Good. So Potter didn't want anything to do with him either. "Then it's okay," he concluded, taking the letter from Harry's unresponsive fingers. "That's all."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, jerking Ryder around furiously. "That's not what I meant!"

Now Ryder looked perplexed. "You just said-"

"Damn it, Malfoy," Harry swore. "This isn't just your decision to make!"

"I can do whatever I want," Ryder countered, feeling defensive as he saw Harry's disappointed and frustrated expression. "It's_ my_ life."

"Sit. Now." Harry pointed to his faded couch with a stern finger. Ryder thought about arguing, but figured he would save his breath and just let Harry dish out whatever moral crap he could think of. He sat down without a provoking word. Harry stood in front of him with his arms crossed against his chest and jaw set with determination. "I don't think you understand the severity of what will be done to you if you go through with your resignation," he said tersely.

"I am well aware," Ryder argued with a tone as clipped as Harry's.

"Then you just want to run away, do you?"

"You have no right calling me a coward," Ryder said through gritted teeth.

This wasn't working. Harry clicked his tongue irritably. "I want to see Malfoy," he demanded, jerking his head up with authority. "Turn into Malfoy."

"I _am_ Malfoy," Ryder deadpanned.

"I don't want to talk to Ryder," Harry scorned.

Ryder rolled his eyes but took his wand out in any case. He tapped the top of his head, causing multiple changes to occur at once, including lightening of hair and skin, elongation of features and even subtle changes in demeanor. "There," Draco drawled. "Happy?"

"Much," Harry answered. "Now," he sighed, sitting down next to be a much less intimidating man. "I know it was difficult seeing your mother die in-"

"I don't need a fucking therapy session, Potter," Draco snarled, his face twisted into a mask of anger and hurt.

"-front of your eyes," Harry continued with his sharp eyes trained on Draco. "But you don't see _me_ erasing my memory of my mother's death, do you?"

"It's different, and you know it," Draco insisted.

"Yes. Because you are beating yourself up over it," Harry agreed.

"And you just want me to be a cold-hearted bastard about this, is that it?" Draco bristled.

"Yes," Harry affirmed. "That's who you are."

Draco didn't want to be a cold-hearted bastard anymore. It was tiring and painful. It's all he had known for so long, but for just over four weeks, all he could remember was innocence and wonder. That had felt freeing. To not feel hate and anger had felt so good. He just wanted that again. And if that meant erasing him memories, then… so be it. "Never thought I'd talk to you like this," he murmured. He stood up with resolve in his heart. "I should go."

Harry knew he wasn't getting through to Draco. Just seeing the blank expression was enough for him to realize that. "Is it that bad?" he asked, stopping Draco with a soft touch to his shoulder. "Being you… Is it that bad?"

"Hmm." Draco shook his head with a wan smile. "I'm tired of it, that's all. It's an opportunity to… start all over again, right? It doesn't come around often. Besides, they owe me."

"You already had that opportunity. You became Ryder," Harry reminded him. "You're being brash."

"Apparently I work best when I'm brash," Draco assured. He was pleasantly amused by Harry's desperation. "This doesn't concern you, Potter… Stop looking so worried. You hate me, remember?"

"Of course I don't!" Harry blurted out. "I don't even _know_ you anymore! You-you're risking your life everyday with those monsters out there and you almost got killed for it! I don't know you!"

"Just a debt I had to clear," Draco brushed it off. "It's done."

"Then what?" Harry exploded, shoving Draco back violently. "What do you want me to do, Draco? You came here for something, didn't you? What do you want me to say?"

"Say yes."

"I won't say anything," Harry snubbed. "I refuse to give you an answer."

"You already gave me an answer," Draco muttered, pushing past Harry. "Just forget I came here and go about your life, alright?"

"Then I forbid you."

Draco stilled, blinking at the door. He couldn't have heard right. "Pardon?" he asked, keeping his head down.

"I said I forbid you. I'm Harry Potter and you have to do as I say."

"Why?"

"Because I saved your good-for-nothing life!"

Draco spun around angrily. "That's emotional blackmail," he hissed.

"And I'm great at it," Harry glowered. "You won't resign because I won't let you. And you'll stay right here because I want you to."

"That is _not_ why I came here!"

"You just wanted my damned permission, right? Well, I _don't_ give you permission," Harry said with derision.

"Fuck you."

Harry watched the door slam shut with growing irritation and indignation. Draco Malfoy was seriously fucked in the head and Harry didn't appreciate that.

Draco had his wand out as he stormed down the corridor, shaking from head to toe as red tinted the edges of his vision. He hadn't felt rage like this in a while.

He was turned around callously.

"Stop. Just stop," Harry said, his brows bunched as his thoughts raced. He exhaled slowly with his eyes squeezed shut and head bowed while Draco watched him. This wasn't supposed to be difficult and Harry knew it. He just had to figure it out. He picked his head up and stuck his hand out. "My name's Potter. Harry Potter."

Draco blinked at him. "Gone mental, have you?" he asked.

Harry urged him silently. Draco merely narrowed his eyes in distrust. "You don't want to go around making friends with the wrong sort," Harry tried. "Hmm?"

A chuckle escaped Draco. "What?" he asked incredulously.

"Come on," Harry pushed with an enthusiastic nod. "This is like starting over, right? You don't have to change!"

Draco looked down at Harry's outstretched hand. "But it's not that easy," he said.

"It _is_! It's so easy!" Harry exclaimed. "Try it!"

It was strange how life played its little tricks. To think that Draco trusted Potter more than himself was frightening to him. Perhaps it was because Potter could apparently do no wrong. It was the reason Draco had asked the man to make the decision for him – he didn't trust his own judgment.

Harry grinned widely as Draco met his hand. "Good," he said. He squeezed Draco's hand once before letting go. "We've started over now, right?"

"Bloody ponce," Draco muttered through his smile as he shoved Harry back before walking away. He touched the wand to his head, transforming into Ryder effortlessly. Then he disappeared in front of Harry's eyes.

"Oh, I'm the bloody ponce, huh?" Harry muttered, shaking his fist at the empty hallway.

* * *

Tarver opened the door with a sharp word at his tongue, but Ryder overtook him. "So… something happened last night with Potter," he said, pushing past Tarver and walking into the drawing room.

"Fucking unbelievable," Tarver muttered under his breath. It was like Ryder had forgotten their previous disastrous conversation. He stomped after Ryder with a scowl on his face. "What?" he barked.

"He talked me out of resigning," Ryder said. "Very… confusingly."

"Am I supposed to pat you on the back now?" Tarver growled. "Bastard."

"No," Ryder sighed, not even registering Tarver's sarcasm or irritation as he massaged his temple with his fingers. "You're my partner and I don't want misunderstandings between us."

"Then talk," Tarver demanded, sitting down on the chair opposite Ryder.

A night's rest had done wonders to Ryder's mind. "Up until now, all I've been doing was paying off my debt to the Ministry," he said.

Tarver frowned. "Huh?"

"It's why I joined. It's the incentive I had," Ryder explained. "I had no… personal vendettas. I'm not like you."

"What debt?" Tarver prompted.

"Debt for my role in the Second War. It was just a job. It wasn't like I was going to get any other work." Ryder broke off and shook his head, obviously getting sidetracked. "Mother was taken care of and-"

"Shit, Ryder, why didn't you tell me this?" Tarver barked furiously.

"Because it's not important," Ryder said. "It doesn't matter why." Tarver gritted his teeth in response, but didn't interrupt again. Ryder took a breath to calm himself. "The night she… died… I was being impulsive. And it cost me." He said this with as little emotion as possible, simply relaying the situation and none of his opinions. "Since then, things changed. Do you understand?"

"No," Tarver said quietly.

"I… I started to feel the same way you feel. The same anger and recklessness. I wanted to get rid of all of them forever," Ryder said as he observed each of Tarver's well-hidden expressions. "It's why I went after him the moment I found out where he was. I _want_ to be rational about this, but I just _can't_. I'm glad I did what I did. Do you see why it's… terrifying?" He waited for Tarver's answer.

Tarver merely swore under his breath and stormed out of his flat, leaving an agape Ryder to stare after him.

Marty barely had time to get up. Tarver helped him out by yanking him up to his feet by his collar. "You knew, didn't you, you fucking bastard?" he snarled.

"Knew what?" Marty asked, easily twisting away from Tarver's grip and backing away with his wand held expertly at hand. "Stay calm."

"HE WAS PAYING OFF A DAMNED DEBT!" Tarver shouted. "HE WAS A _CHILD_!"

Marty's eyes flickered with realization and he lowered his wand hesitantly. "Is that what this is about?' he asked in confusion.

"Damn it, Marty," Tarver choked, turning away with his hands raking his hair so he wouldn't end up reaching for his wand and hexing Marty to hell. "Damn it…"

"He knew all the risks involved," Marty explained carefully. "He was of age when he joined us."

Tarver was having trouble breathing from the unbound emotions raging within him. "He's not like us. He had a family, for heaven's sake…" he muttered. "What are we? Animals?"

"You're blowing this out of proportion," Marty was quick to say. "He was on the wrong side of the war, Tarver. And he was making amends by joining us."

"No," Tarver spat out. "He was making sure his mother was taken care of by joining us. He was just a child, understand?"

"Hmm," Marty sighed, realizing that there was no convincing Tarver until both of them had cooled down considerably.

When Tarver returned to his home, he realized that Ryder had yet to leave. The door was open and a silent charm indicated to him that his guest was still in the drawing room. He walked in uncertainly, feet shuffling and feeling unusually guilty for reasons he couldn't quite name yet.

Ryder looked up when he heard muffled movement. He blinked up at Tarver nervously. He wasn't quite sure what was wrong, but he knew that he was going to be in a heap of shit now.

Tarver sat down beside Ryder, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as he contemplated his next course of action. He remembered Ryder's first day as clearly as if it had happened the day before. The Unmentionables had done everything to ensure his life was a living hell. Perhaps it was the cold and uncaring look in his eyes or the fact that the man was really Draco Lucius Malfoy… Either way, it had taken over two years before Ryder had been properly inducted into the team. "Was she happy to see you?" he asked.

Ryder was taken aback by the question. Tarver was not the kind of man who would ask this. "I-sh-she thought she had gone mad," Ryder answered.

"I bet," Tarver said with a wavering smile.

"She was happy too."

"Yeah?" Tarver glanced at Ryder. Ryder nodded in ascent. "That's good…"

"But… I don't want to talk about that," Ryder added. "I just wanted to tell you why I-"

"Do you wish you hadn't joined?"

Ryder smirked half-heartedly. "Seriously? What's with these questions?" he asked.

"Just answer me."

Ryder huffed as he leaned against the back of the plush sofa. "I guess. I mean, everyone wishes that, right?" He shrugged. "But I don't regret this. I'm glad for this."

"You're sure?"

It seemed really important to Tarver that Ryder answer honestly, so he tried. "It feels good to be on the winning side," he said.

Tarver laughed at this as he pulled Ryder into a fierce hug. "I want you to know that I wouldn't want anyone else for a partner, alright?" he whispered. "You trust me, don't you?"

"If you don't let go, I won't be trusting your sexuality for much longer."

Tarver's choice swears were music to Ryder's ears.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Last chapter! Hurrah! Thanks for the numerous reviews and favorites! You guys are simply the best :D

* * *

Over the next few months, Harry was plagued with visions of Ryder. Only, he couldn't be certain it was the man because he had only caught a glimpse that night at the hospital. So either his mind was playing tricks on him or Draco was spying on him.

He tried to not let it bother him. He played dumb and carried on with his life, whether it be buying coffee from his favorite vendor or picking up little Rose and Hugo from Ron's place. But it did keep him distracted.

"What are you looking at?" Ginny asked, snapping her fingers in front of Harry's eyes to stop him from gazing out into the distance.

"Huh?" he sighed, returning his attention to her.

"Am I _that_ boring, Harry?" she deadpanned.

"Yes. I'm sorry."

He simply loved to tease her. She ended up throwing her newspaper at him that time.

And when he glanced back towards the park, the vision had disappeared.

He rather liked to see Ryder in the corner of his eye. It meant that Draco was keeping safe now. He hadn't saved that man's life for nothing, after all.

Meanwhile, the rest of Ryder's team saw a marked improvement in him.

His performance was doubling in excellence. Not only was he starting to feel as gung-ho about his job as the rest of his gang, his magic had somehow increased in potency.

One day at training, he was trying to cast a simple defensive charm to stop a wall of rubble from falling down on him. However, instead of simply steadying the teetering wall, he was also blasted back a few steps by a backlash and his shoulder dislocated because of it. The rest of the Unmentionables had blinked in wonder for a moment before rushing over to see why Ryder was on the ground writhing in pain. Tests eventually revealed that he would have to relearn some of the easier spells, which both aggravated and intrigued him. He had to learn to restrain himself now, something he had never had to do before.

The menial conversations in the staff room fell away as the sound of soft stifled laughter started sounding from a corner. The Unmentionables glanced at each other and then at Ryder who was reading the funnies for the first time since… well, _ever_. And he was _laughing_ behind closed lips.

"What the _fuck_, Ryder?" Brock asked loudly.

Ryder started and looked up, his eyes roving over his team and his smile disappearing. "What?"

"You're laughing like a bloody loony," Tarver muttered.

A rather impressive scowl graced his partner's face. "I don't laugh."

"Mhm," Marty seceded with a patronizing nod.

"What?" Ryder snapped. "I wasn't laughing!"

After having spoken with Potter about leaving the team, Ryder started to notice how amazing the Unmentionables truly were. He began to understand the state of mind of his teach, which was almost always focused of revenge of some kind. It was unhealthy, but it was a common goal. The de-aging incident had brought them closer together. For the first time, Ryder felt as though he might actually belong there.

Time passed this way until the strange incidents at the hospital was a memory that had little importance in most people's minds. The Ministry had done a good job at hushing rumors, so now all they had to worry about were the people intimately involved with the case. A year later, all the legal documents were signed and the investigation was closed.

Harry often passed Draco's hospital room with some form of acknowledgment, whether it be looking at the door or letting his footsteps falter slightly before picking up again. To date, his was the most interesting case Harry had ever dealt with. Young Malfoy was also one of the only patients who had garnered a large part of Harry's attention. As embarrassed as he was to admit it, he had grown strangely attached to the little boy.

Even Ron was starting to notice his slight moodiness, which usually meant that things weren't so slight after all.

His uneasiness was soon quelled by an unannounced visitor.

Harry was pulled away from his dinner by the doorbell.

Opening the door revealed a man hidden by the shadows. His back was turned and he appeared quite jittery. "Hello?" Harry said hesitantly.

The man jumped and turned around. It was Ryder and he appeared surprised to see Harry even though he had rang the bell in the first place.

Harry blinked for a few seconds before gathering his wits. "Are you hurt?" he asked, alarmed to see the man so plainly in front of him. "Did something happen?" It had been over a year since their last meeting.

Ryder had his hands clasped in front of him, fingers tangled nervously, and he was shifting his weight from foot to foot without opening his mouth to respond to the questions.

"Dr-" Harry caught himself. "Ryder?"

Ryder pushed Harry into the house and stepped inside before slamming the door shut.

Harry had his wand out at the ready and was already whisking assessment charms at the man to make sure nothing was broken or bleeding. "Did you do something stupid again?" he asked.

"Just stop for a bloody second," Ryder muttered after catching hold of Harry's wrist and pushing it down. "I haven't done anything yet."

"Yet?" Harry squeaked.

Ryder sighed while glaring at Harry. "I need a drink. Can you handle that?" he asked caustically.

Harry made a disparaging sound before turning on his heel and stomping to his kitchen. He heard Ryder's footsteps following him in, so he continued talking. "You aren't supposed to be contacting me, you know? If Kingsley finds out, he'll have both our heads."

"I know," Ryder mumbled absently. He accepted the glass that Harry handed him and downed the fiery liquid in one gulp.

"You aren't thinking of quitting again, are you?" Harry asked.

"No," Ryder snapped. "I just can't talk to the other guys like I can talk to you, alright?"

Harry snapped his mouth shut and fidgeted with his fingers. That confession was rather embarrassing. He didn't know what to say.

"I haven't been able to sleep. Just nightmares and all that," Ryder mumbled. "Do you have anything to stop those?"

"You should ask your doctor."

"You _are_ my doctor."

Harry shook his head.

Ryder clicked his tongue but didn't push that topic any further. He leaned against the counter while trying to figure his thoughts out. Harry waited for a minute before sitting down on the barstool and trying to appear as receptive as possible. "How is work?" he asked.

"Fine," Ryder answered.

"Okay."

There was awkward silence for a bit longer, which Ryder broke with another loud sigh. "Sorry to just drop by," he muttered. "Thanks for the drink."

Harry followed him out the kitchen with growing trepidation. He didn't know what to say or what Draco would want him to say. He was glad that he had seen Ryder in the flesh but now he had no idea what to do about that. He pulled the door open to let the man out. "I don't mind, you know," he said hesitantly. "I mean, if you drop by like this. I'm fine with it."

"I know," Ryder said with a curt nod. "Night."

"Yeah." Harry watched him walk down the stairs with a hand gripping the doorknob. Then he threw caution to the wind and ran after him. "Hey, wait."

Ryder paused and turned, arching a brow questioningly.

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets with a sheepish shrug and asked, "I know this is probably… really stupid, but have you… been spying on me?"

Ryder arched his other brow as well in response.

With a heavy blush, Harry backed up. "Sorry," he stammered. "I must have been imagining things. Bye."

He was jerked around before he could reach his door. He was too mortified to even look at Ryder's face so he kept his eyes on his socked feet. He had never been so caught up in a case before and now he was paying the price for blurting out stuff without thinking thrice.

"I didn't think you noticed."

He whipped his head up to look at Ryder in bewilderment. "Huh?"

"I didn't think you had noticed," Ryder repeated slowly.

Harry's mouth suddenly went dry. "Y-you were?"

"It's not like I could just walk up to you and say hello."

Harry swallowed hard to wet his throat. "You could have," he squeaked. "I wouldn't mind."

"I don't exist, remember?" Ryder remarked with a dry smile.

Harry nodded quickly. "Right. I forgot," he stammered. "So is that all you wanted to talk to me about? The insomnia thing?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry I can't help you with it."

"It's fine. I won't hold it against you."

Harry nodded again as he turned away and opened the front door. "Just hold off on caffeine after seven and try to de-stress before bed. Maybe you won't need medication, hmm?"

"Potter." Ryder grabbed Harry's wrist and pulled him out of the house. "What are you doing?"

Harry wrenched his hand away but couldn't stop his blush from showing. "Nothing. What are you talking about?" he asked, quickly averting his eyes.

"You always tell me what you're thinking," Ryder murmured, lowering his head so he was on par with the doctor's level. "Why won't you tell me now?"

"You're being weird," Harry rushed. "Try to get some rest, okay?"

"What are you thinking?" Ryder prompted.

"Nothing!"

Ryder stepped forward and Harry took an even step back, his eyes widening in shock. They moved in unison until they were back inside the house. Ryder blindly pushed the door shut behind him while smiling. "Something wrong, Potter?" he asked.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry asked, his temper rising steadily. "I don't know what you want me to say!"

Ryder pulled out his wand and asked, "Need me to count to ten?"

Harry started in recognition, then blinked rapidly as Ryder changed to Draco in front of him. His temper deflated until all he could do was gape helplessly.

"I'll get past five this time," Draco said, jerking Harry forward into a firm kiss.

Harry pushed away with a sharp inhale. "You remember that?" he asked incredulously.

"For Merlin's sake," Draco muttered under his breath, silencing Harry with his lips.

Harry didn't even think to resist. He wound his yearning arms around Draco and melted into him, much to both of their surprise. They stumbled backwards, towards the stairs. They staggered into the bedroom and didn't even bother with the door. Harry fell onto the bed and Draco followed him down. Their breaths ran together, hard and impatient. Harry hadn't realized how badly he had needed this until now. Hell, it didn't matter that this was man or that he was Draco Malfoy. He needed to have sex _now_.

Draco was already undoing the buttons on Harry's shirt by then while kissing him senseless. He was sure that he was leaving bruises but he could care less. He straddled Harry and rolled his hips deliberately, eliciting many gasps and helpless moans out of the man under him. He pulled his lips away to take in some air. Their foreheads pressed against each other as they rutted. He could hear Harry's breath rattling out and he had never felt so aroused in his life. "I want you so bad," he exhaled.

"A-anything," Harry panted. "Anything you want."

Draco slid his hands down Harry's arms, moving them up over the man's head. Their fingers entwined as their lips melded together once again.

Rushed footsteps suddenly sounded in the hallway just as Draco used a knee to part Harry's legs. "Harry, you left your d-oh!" Ginny leapt out of the room and slammed the door shut.

Harry whipped his head forward to stare at Draco in fright.

Draco was Ryder in the blink of an eye.

Just in time too because the door burst open once again to reveal Ginny with bugged eyes and a slack jaw. "Wh-wha-what? What? WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU AND-" She choked on her words as her eyes roved over Ryder in shock. "B-but I just… I saw… Huh?"

Harry was trying to get out from under Ryder the whole while and Ryder wasn't about to let him. "What?" he drawled. "Never seen two men in bed before?"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM?"

"Ginny, please?" Harry groaned, now resorting to beating Ryder with his fists.

"Get away from him," Ginny seethed.

Ryder caught Harry's fists in his hands and slammed them against the bed, silencing him with a fierce glare. "Is she your girlfriend?" he asked.

Harry quickly shook his head.

Then Ryder turned that glare towards the woman standing at the doorway. "Leave unless you want to see me fuck him," he snarled.

Ginny gasped theatrically.

Harry cringed and squeezed his eyes shut, not because of mortification but because of the images that suddenly flooded his mind. "Ginny, get out," he said shakily.

"Harry!" she cried in dismay.

"I'm fine," he stammered. "Just get out."

"You're _what_?"

Ryder growled in frustration as he bent down and captured Harry's mouth in his. The kiss was filled with terror and exhilaration. Harry arched into it while vaguely listening to Ginny shout and rant things like 'makes me want to hurl' and 'you're gay and you didn't tell me?' and 'wasted time on women'.

Only when the door slammed shut did Ryder pull away from Harry.

They stared at each other for a breathless second.

"You're fine?"

Harry's brows knitted together. "Huh?"

"You said you're fine," Ryder whispered.

"Yeah…"

"Shit," he swore, dropping his head against Harry's shoulder. "I'm not really going to fuck you right now, Potter."

Harry stared up at the ceiling while feeling a surge of disappointment run through him, making him shiver. "I know," he lied. "Sorry about her. She usually calls or-"

"I didn't come here to talk about her," Ryder added, lifting his head up to look at Harry. He pressed a soft kiss against Harry's lips and sighed. "I shouldn't have done this. I'm sorry."

Harry just shook his head.

"I wanted to see you."

Harry tilted his head towards Ryder in astonishment. "What?" he asked. "Like _this_?"

Ryder couldn't help his smile as he looked down at Harry's flushed skin, mussed hair and naked chest. "Hmm," he murmured to himself. "Like this."

Before Harry could protest half-heartedly, they were right back where they had started – bruising each other's lips and ripping clothes off.

Three hours later, Harry was staring up at the ceiling in a daze and Ryder was on his side, absently drawing patterns on the bed. They hadn't had sex in the strictest sense of the word but… Harry had never done _anything_ like that in his thirty years of existence, that was for sure. He hadn't thought it was possible to reach that sort of an orgasm without actual… penetration.

He sat up abruptly and dragged his fingers through his hair with a loud swear. "What the hell are we doing?" he breathed, quickly scrambling out of bed and dragging the sheets with him, which he wrapped around his naked body. "What did we just do?"

"Don't ruin this, Potter," Ryder groaned as he flipped over and buried his head against the pillows.

"You're my _patient_! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!" Harry was hyperventilating by now and he sank to the ground to sit on his haunches and tucked his chin against his chest so he could stave off his nausea.

Ryder scooted over and peeked from over the bed. "I'm not a six-year-old kid anymore," he offered.

Harry dry-heaved.

"For fuck's sake," Ryder muttered under his breath. He rolled out of bed and quickly stepped into his boxers before kneeling in front of Harry. "Look at me," he ordered. Harry refused with a steadfast shake of his head. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?" Ryder asked. Harry cringed at the thought. "I enjoyed myself too."

Harry looked up. "You did?"

"Yes, Potter. I did," Ryder sighed. "What? Did you think I did all that just to please your highness?"

"We can't," Harry murmured, reaching out to touch Ryder's cheek. "You know we can't do this."

"Why not?" Ryder asked, lifting his chin up in defiance.

"I'm not supposed to know you exist."

Ryder exhaled in frustration as he got up on his feet and searched the bed for his wand. "If I don't exist, then you can just have sex with Malfoy. Is that better?" he snapped, finding his wand and changing his appearance before kneeling down beside Harry. His eyes went wide when he noticed a blush on the doctor's cheeks. "Wh-You would _prefer_ that?"

"No," Harry mumbled while trying to get up.

Draco wouldn't let him. "Wait, this… You won't mind if we do it like _this_?"

"Of course I mind," Harry sighed. "You're dead! You aren't making this easy on me _or_ yourself, Malfoy."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know." Harry slumped against the wall and rubbed his tired eyes. "Believe it or not, I don't have the answer to every bloody question you ask."

Draco shifted over to sit beside Harry with his knees pulled up and his arms looped around his legs. "Thanks," he murmured.

Harry glanced up with a perplexed frown. "What for?"

"For not hurting me."

He groaned in dismay and dropped his face in his hands once again. "Why would I hurt you, Draco?" he asked deliberately.

"I sexually assaulted you."

Harry laughed into his palms as the gravity of the situation overwhelmed him. He had just done many unmentionable things and Ginny was going to have his head in a matter of five hours. On top of it all, he was feeling fantastic. And Malfoy was worried about sexual assault?

He looked up when he felt Draco move beside him. He watched the man stand up and hold out a hand. Harry took it and stood up as well, still grinning widely.

Draco slid his fingers down the side of Harry's neck, eliciting a shiver out of him. "Again?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," Draco murmured, pulling the sheet away from Harry's body and pushing him into bed.

* * *

Harry awoke to an empty bed a few hours later but his disappointment was quickly shoved over when he smelt coffee. He scrambled onto his feet and staggered about on weak knees while going through his closet for something to wear that wouldn't make him look like a stupid idiot. He dunked his head in water and tried to get his hair to cooperate as he brushed his teeth furiously. He had no idea why he was trying so hard but this was the first time he had had someone stay over at his place since Ginny. That had been ten long years ago.

Once he looked halfway decent and after praying that Malfoy looked as sleep-deprived and nervous as him, he ventured downstairs and into the kitchen.

He met with Ryder instead. The man was staring out the window while sipping on a mug of coffee. He cleared his throat to make his presence known.

Ryder glanced up as he was shaken out of his thoughts. "Oh… Good morning," he murmured. He hadn't expected to see Harry.

"You're leaving?" Harry asked, keeping his tone even. He turned his back to Ryder and poured himself a cup while waiting for an answer.

"Yeah," Ryder said after a moment. "It's already seven."

"Early days, huh?"

"Starts at eight."

Harry turned around and leaned against the counter, silently observing Ryder. The man always looked put together, but that was most likely because of the magic that changed his appearance.

"What?" he asked, tilting his head at Harry.

"Huh?" Harry blinked stupidly.

"Why are you staring?"

"I wasn't staring."

"Mhm." Ryder smiled behind his mug as he took a sip.

"I wasn't," Harry maintained, turning away again to rummage through the cupboards. "Want some breakfast?"

"You don't have much."

Harry exhaled in defeat and hung his head. "Okay, just… What are we going to do now?"

Ryder stared at Harry's back for a few seconds while trying to figure out what Harry was asking of him. "Ball's in my court?"

"Yes."

Ryder stepped forward and turned Harry around so they faced each other again. "I know this all feels crazy and sounds crazy," he said, placing the mug away so he could press both hands to Harry's shoulders. "But can't we just keep doing this?"

"This being what?" Harry wanted to know.

"I don't know." Ryder shook his head. "There's something about you, Potter. And it's not like… I can talk to anyone else. So I like this." He gave Harry a very hesitant kiss.

"You like to kiss?"

He nodded with an amused smile.

How could Harry say no to that? He tipped his head to the side and slid his lips onto Ryder's, kissing him fully.

Before they knew it, Harry was sitting on the counter and Ryder was weaving fingers though damp, raven hair while nibbling on the supple lips that moved against his teeth.

"Gosh, you really do like to kiss, don't you?"

Ryder chuckled quietly when he heard the distant tone in Harry's voice. "I have to go," he whispered, finally stepping back.

Harry nodded and averted his eyes so he was staring down at his feet that were dangling over the counter.

"The last person I contacted died."

He nodded again.

Ryder pressed his hands against Harry's knees and slid his nose against the doctor's neck. "Promise me…"

The door burst open and the men glanced up to find Ginny seething, just as before.

"You are still here?" she growled.

Ryder clicked his tongue in frustration. This woman seemed to be _everywhere_. He looked away from her and leaned in to press his lips against Harry's ear. "Promise me you won't leave," he whispered.

Harry all but melted. "I won't," he answered. He tilted his head and nuzzled Ryder while his body slowly heated up with emotions. "I'll be right here."

Ryder pressed his lips against Harry's mouth for a fleeting moment, then stepped back. Harry had his hands clasped on his lap and a furious blush on his cheeks. Ryder was quite pleased with himself. He strode towards the doorway where Ginny stood with her hands at her hips.

"Stay away from him," they snarled at each other.

Ryder stormed away while Ginny stomped into the kitchen, marching straight at Harry and then smacking him over the head. That pulled him down from the clouds. "Ow," he whined. "What?"

"WHO WAS THAT?" Ginny screamed.

Ryder could hear them from the foyer and he couldn't help his smirk.

"He's… Ryder," Harry answered, hoping to Merlin that Ginny couldn't remember who Ryder was.

"How did you meet him?" she snapped.

"Work," Harry mumbled. "I'm fine, Ginny. I'm thirty-one, for crying out loud. I can do what I want."

"Did you two have sex?"

Ryder had to bite his lip to keep from sputtering.

"Ginny!" Harry gasped. "What's wrong with you?"

"You're _gay_! That's what's wrong with me!" she exclaimed. "Why on Earth wouldn't you tell me? I've been trying to set you up with women all this time and no wonder none of those dates worked out. You're so bloody secretive! I'm your best f-"

"I'm not _gay_!" Harry interrupted urgently. "It's not like that. I just…" he trailed off.

"You what?"

Harry turned away without another word.

Ginny exhaled in exasperation. "Look, he's super hot and all and he's _way_ out of your league! He probably just wants to go out with you because you're Harry Potter. That's not the kind of guy you want!"

"I've known him for a while," Harry tried to reason. But now that he thought of, that was _exactly_ the kind of guy Malfoy was. "Um… I mean, maybe before he would do something like that, but _now_… hopefully… he isn't like that."

The door swung open to reveal Ryder leaning against the doorjamb with a smile on his lips. "Don't get me wrong," he drawled. "The _only_ reason I'm going out with you is because you are Harry Potter."

Harry dropped his head in his hands while Ginny frantically searched the kitchen for a suitable and preferably lethal projectile.

"Later, Potter."

"Just go away before she kills you," Harry groaned. His life always seemed to go out of control when Draco was around.

He didn't realize that he had been aching for trouble until now. And he had just landed himself in _heaps_ of trouble from all directions.

"He better be worth it," Ginny fumed.

Harry chuckled in defeat. "I think he is…"


End file.
